Here There Be Dragons
by Mizvoy
Summary: Now Complete! Voyager has returned to the AQ, but the Maquis have chosen to leave the Federation. Yet, fate plays its hand to bring some relationships into reality. Post Endgame JC
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Paramount. I'm just playing with them!  
  
Summary: Voyager has returned to the AQ, but the Maquis have chosen to leave the Federation and settle in an area called the Republic hundreds of light years away and across a dangerous region of space. Yet, fate plays its hand to bring some relationships into reality. Post Endgame J/C  
  
"Here There Be Dragons" Part 1  
  
by Mizvoy  
  
Time: Three years following Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant  
  
Place: The Federation  
  
Admiral Kathryn Janeway tossed the PADD she'd been reading onto her desk and leaned back in her chair to stretch, muttering a few choice words under her breath in the process. Although it was just mid-afternoon, she was too tired and distracted to keep her mind focused on the work at hand, a phenomenon that had been happening with disturbing frequency of late.  
  
Her aide looked up in surprise. The admiral had been giving him a continuous series of orders as she read methodically through a message from her boss when she'd suddenly started mumbling to herself. "Admiral?"  
  
She sighed and slumped forward, resting her elbows on the desktop and her chin in her hands. "I said, 'Enough,' Lieutenant."  
  
He glanced at his notes in confusion. "Enough of what, ma'am? We're not even halfway through Admiral Hayes' questions."  
  
Instead of answering, she stood up and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that gave her corner office a stunning view of San Francisco Bay. It was a beautiful September afternoon. The blue sky was full of white puffy clouds and the sun was warm in spite of a cool breeze. She could almost picture sailboats tilting on the water. She could imagine the happy chatter of the jostling crowds and the delectable smells of food along Fisherman's Wharf. She could remember her own brisk walk through the Starfleet gardens at dawn, the birds singing gaily in the bushes, the sky a delicate shade of robin's egg blue. She had been tempted to sit down, relax, and drink in the quiet beauty of the pristine day, but she'd had an early appointment and had marched on without a moment's hesitation.  
  
When duty called, she said to herself, Kathryn Janeway answered. Like Pavlov's dog, she had conditioned herself to respond quickly and without a second thought when there was work to be done. She was a workaholic, consumed by her job.  
  
She stood there awhile, her hands behind her back, shaking her head once in awhile as if she were arguing with herself until she finally said over her shoulder, "That will be all for today, Jeff."  
  
"But, Admiral," the aide protested, glancing at the PADD in his hands, "you didn't even finish your sentence."  
  
She chuckled. "Remind me, and I'll finish the sentence on Monday." She turned to face him, and he was shocked to see tears in her eyes. "It's Saturday afternoon, Jeff, and time to think of something other than work. Don't you have a date tonight?"  
  
"No, ma'am. I . . . I wasn't sure how late we'd be working and didn't want to keep a date waiting."  
  
"That's my fault," she said softly as she walked to him and took the PADD from his hands, shutting it off and tossing it onto the desk with the one she'd just discarded. "From now on, I want you to take the weekends off."  
  
"But, Admiral," he protested, "everyone knows that you have to work nights and weekends if you want to have a successful Starfleet career."  
  
She leaned back against the desk and folded her arms over her chest. "Who told you that?"  
  
"Nobody had to tell me that, ma'am. Look around headquarters. Everyone who wants to get ahead works extra hours. It's a way of life."  
  
She grew thoughtful, remembering her own indefatigable work habits over the years, her own obsession with success, especially after the tragic accident that had killed her father and fiancé when she was a green ensign. Yet, in spite of her ambition, she had found time to become involved with Justin and later with Mark, and she had always made plans with friends for her off- duty hours and weekends.  
  
That is, she had found time for all that before she took command of Voyager. It was while she was in the Delta Quadrant that she'd become obsessed with work, a habit she hadn't been able to break since their return three years earlier. It was as if she'd built up such a momentum on the ship that three years later she had only just begun to slow down.  
  
She studied her aide carefully. She hoped she could help him find a better balance between a private life and a career than she had accomplished. She would hate to think that he would arrive at her rank and age with regrets about his life—regrets she was beginning to acknowledge.  
  
"What's the name of the woman you brought to the Federation Ball?"  
  
"Mandy Bowers?"  
  
"I thought she was charming. Are you still seeing her?"  
  
He shook his head, scowling in an effort to hide the flair of distress in his eyes. "I was off-planet most of the next six months, you know, following up on the Delta Shuttle's preliminary field tests. While I was gone, she met a guy at work, and, last I heard, they were supposed to get married soon."  
  
For some reason, Kathryn felt his pain as if it were her own, as if she shared in his anguish and loss. Perhaps it was because she, too, had lost so much because of the demands of her job. Perhaps it was just her maternal instinct kicking in. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she said, "Give her a call, Jeff. Make sure she knows that she has a choice between you and this other man before it's too late. If you don't, you'll always wonder what might have been."  
  
"I've thought about doing that. But I don't want to mislead her, Admiral." He frowned and looked away. "I'm putting in for a deep space assignment, and, if I'm lucky, I'll get the Enterprise. Is it fair to lure her away from someone who'll be here all day, every day when I know I'll be gone for months and maybe years at a time?"  
  
Kathryn felt sick at her stomach as she tried to formulate a response, not that she hadn't answered the same question a dozen times before. In fact, she had a pat answer memorized--decide what's most important to you and do what you have to do to make it happen. Always before, the suggestion had seemed elegantly simple. But now, it seemed far too easy and much too one- sided.  
  
"That's a decision you and Mandy should make together," she heard herself saying, instead. "Think through your options with her, and then decide."  
  
"That won't work," he sighed, getting up from his seat and putting on his jacket. "She doesn't understand what it means to be in Starfleet, how it becomes a way of life complete unto itself. She's jealous of the time I put into it and resents the way it dominates my life." He stopped a moment to think, and then squared his shoulders to face her. "And, more to the point, I'm not sure I'd be willing to accept any option that doesn't include going into deep space."  
  
She blinked in surprise at his honest admission of selfishness. She said, "Jeff, it's easy to let the uniform decide what's important for you." Kathryn looked around her office, where she had spent an average of twelve hours a day, seven days a week for the last three years, and frowned. "Just don't use me as your example of a successful Starfleet officer. I don't have a 'complete' life. I have no family to speak of and no real interests outside of my career. Frankly, you deserve better."  
  
He smiled at her indulgently, as if she were teasing, as if she were trying to make him believe there was a better objective in life than a corner office in Archer Hall with six subordinates to manage the details of one's big and important life. "With all due respect, ma'am, I want to be an admiral someday," he replied, dismissing her advice as respectfully as he could. "I want to make a difference, and I know that in order to do to that I must put Starfleet before everything else."  
  
Hours later, Kathryn still sat in her empty office, her feet elevated, classical music playing softly, and a half empty bottle of wine in the chiller on the floor beside her. She watched as the sun went down and the stars gradually appeared in the darkening sky, absently recalling the route from one Federation system to another as their respective stars appeared. When had she memorized the star charts? After three years, she still had to print out the directions to her mother's winter apartment in Florida, but she knew the vector between Earth and Vulcan by heart. She couldn't remember the date of her niece's birthday, but she could rattle off the orders required to take a ship out of space dock without hesitation.  
  
The conversation with her aide haunted her. She didn't have a Justin or a Mark in her life, nor did she have plans for anything relaxing or fun after work this weekend, next weekend, or any other weekend in the foreseeable future. In fact, her work schedule seldom recognized the weekends at all, unless she was visiting her mother for a Sunday dinner. She couldn't remember the last party she'd attended that hadn't been work related. She couldn't remember any night that hadn't included at least a few hours of work before bed. And tonight, a breathtakingly beautiful Saturday night in September, she sat alone in her office slowly getting drunk.  
  
How had she let this happen?  
  
She drained her glass and refilled it, raising it in the light to admire its soft golden color. She idly wondered what her aide was doing with his evening. She'd seen him gather several PADDs from his desk before he left, and she imagined that he was studying them in his apartment rather than calling Mandy Bowers and exploring a far-different future. Would he live to regret that decision someday? Maybe, maybe not.  
  
She hadn't given him her usual advice about deciding what was most important. She didn't think she would ever give that advice again. Thinking about it now, she decided it was one of those sayings that seems simple and true in theory, yet is horribly complicated in practice. How, exactly, do you go about deciding what's most important in your life when your work's responsibilities make it impossible to imagine anything but work? How do you examine your deepest wants and needs when your rank and position define you better and more completely than your own personality?  
  
"Our Starfleet duties are the most important of all," she thought out loud as she sipped the wine. "We think that Starfleet is the only way to make a difference in this big galaxy of ours, when really . . . making a difference in one single life can be just as significant. We allow the sheer number of people affected by what we do influence our decision."  
  
Then, with a shock of self-recognition, she realized that she had done just that on Voyager. She had let her responsibilities as captain and her guilt as the person who'd stranded the ship so far from home prevent her from making a true exploration of what it was she wanted in life. The captain was responsible for the ship and 150 crewmembers, while Kathryn, the person, could make a difference to a scant few--one or two at most. Wasn't it right to assume that the captain and her crew should come first? Shouldn't 150 people be more important than a single woman and one or two of her friends? Had she let her uniform make the decision for her?  
  
She shook her head, refusing to second-guess herself. She'd done what she'd had to do on Voyager under the worst possible circumstances, and she wasn't going to berate herself for those choices now, but the three years since their return was another issue altogether. She'd let the excitement and press of activities carry her forward like flotsam on the ocean, still caught up in the high tide of the Delta Quadrant. It was only in the last few weeks that she'd been able to slow down and think about what she was doing and whether she wanted to continue doing it.  
  
For the first time in ten years, she found herself anxious to explore her options, anxious to rethink the direction her life had taken, but she needed someone to bounce her ideas back at her, someone who would be willing to challenge her assumptions and force her to consider all the possibilities. She needed someone who saw the woman behind the rank, who would listen to her as a person, not a Starfleet officer.  
  
Someone like Chaktoay. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what he would say. She could hear his voice telling her that in order to know what is most important, she must first know who she really is. Self-knowledge, a deceptively simple, yet formidable undertaking, was the basis of his calm, steady outlook on life and one that Chakotay had spent many long hours contemplating. In contrast, she felt as if she had simply reacted to life, allowing her course to be influenced more by the events that surrounded her than by her own understanding of those events.  
  
She shook her head. "I would, of course, dismiss his guidance as ridiculously naive. I'd tell him, 'I know perfectly well who I am. I'm captain of this ship and a Starfleet officer.' And he would smile at me and shake his head in resignation. 'That might be what you are, Kathryn, but it isn't who you are.'"  
  
She carefully set the glass on her desk and stood up, studying her full length reflection in the window. Her uniform fit perfectly. Her hair was carefully and professionally styled. Her makeup was a little smeared at this late hour, but she knew she could restore it to its early morning perfection if she had to. Her admiral's pips and commbadge gleamed in the soft light of her desk lamp. She was a picture-perfect Starfleet admiral, and she wore the rank like a glove. But that was just the surface, wasn't it?  
  
"Who the hell are you?" she asked the reflection. But, of course, it didn't answer.  
  
Two months later--  
  
Kathryn Janeway had forgotten how much fun it could be to pilot one's own ship. As soon as the Hudson Bay disappeared from her short-range sensors, she put the prototype Delta Shuttle through its paces, performing a series of stomach-wrenching acrobatic moves designed to familiarize new helmsmen with a ship's characteristics. She could just imagine how Tom Paris would love this small, fast, and responsive cousin of the Delta Flyer. The ship was destined to be a favorite with the youngest and most daring Starfleet pilots for decades to come.  
  
For the first time in ten years, Kathryn was heading off in a direction of her own choosing. In three days, she would rendezvous with the research team studying the temporal and spatial anomalies of the Serena Expanse, a Beta Quadrant no-man's-land on the farthest edges of Federation space. For the two months after that, she was to take the tiny and agile ship through the Expanse in order to do some much-needed mapping for the team and simultaneously see how the small ship handled in very tight quarters and during constant and demanding use. She couldn't believe how excited she was to be doing something so completely different.  
  
Once she was comfortable at the helm, she spent a few minutes plotting a course that would brush tantalizingly close to the Expanse on the way to the research team's home base on Starbase 800. She thought she might as well get a good look at what would be "home" for the next two months. In the meantime, she prepared and sent messages to some friends, began reading a few books that had been intriguing her, and got a great deal of sleep. Not once did she think about the projects she'd left behind at Starfleet Headquarters. It was her hope that this time alone immersed in science would help her reconnect with the Kathryn she had once been and rediscover the balance she had always managed between her career and her private life.  
  
Two months earlier, on the Sunday morning following that moment of crisis in her office, Admiral Owen Paris had found Kathryn Janeway fast asleep on the sofa in his office's reception area. He'd leaned over and shaken her gently. "Kathryn? Are you locked out of your office?"  
  
She'd sat up and pushed her hair from her eyes, remembering too late the excess of wine she'd consumed the night before. She'd squinted to focus her blurry vision, slumping against the sofa's cushions as a headache began to pulse between her eyes. "Oh, hello, Owen. I was waiting to talk to you."  
  
"Well, here I am." He'd guided her into his office and handed her a cup of coffee before he'd asked his next question, deciding to neatly sidestep her obvious hangover. "Have you been out there all night?"  
  
"Not on your sofa, no, but in the building." She sighed. "I had no good reason to go home."  
  
He'd frowned at the depressed tone of her voice as he sat down across from her. "What's wrong, Katie? It's not like you to drink alone."  
  
"Is it that obvious?" She winced and then relaxed as she took a sip of the steaming coffee. She and Owen Paris knew each other too well to let something like a hangover become a problem between them. "I think I'm finally winding down."  
  
"From the conference last week?"  
  
"From seven years of constant pressure on Voyager, Owen. It's taken three years, but I think I'm finally ready for something completely different."  
  
"Well, I'd say it's about time." He leaned back in his chair, watching her take another long drink from her cup. "Tell me about it."  
  
As always, she'd found him to be a good listener. She'd poured out her thoughts about the way she'd let her career take over her life, and she'd discovered that he was completely sympathetic, if not even similarly troubled by his own work habits. They'd talked for hours, finally leaving the building and walking through the gardens until she was nearly asleep on her feet. But, with his help, she'd realized what she'd needed to do and found the courage to do it.  
  
"I need a couple of months to doing something completely different, like mapping the Serena Expanse with the prototype shuttle."  
  
He'd nodded, finally giving in to her demands. "It's something I wouldn't mind doing myself, Katie. I'll talk to Rancini about getting you the shuttle while you contact the Vulcan Science Academy about joining their research team. They're doing important work. We need to understand the more volatile areas of space if we ever expect to get past them. Right now the Serena Expanse and non-aligned space have kept us from exploring further into the Beta Quadrant."  
  
"And Admiral Hayes?" She'd shuddered at the thought of confronting her very demanding boss with a request for an extended leave of absence. "Who'll convince him that he should let his personal workhorse take some time off?"  
  
"Leave that to me, too, Katie."  
  
They'd made their way back to Archer Hall before Paris had let the other shoe drop. "This doesn't have anything to do with the Maquis, does it?"  
  
She'd stopped in her tracks. "The Maquis?"  
  
"Well, they did leave for the Republic two years ago today."  
  
She'd walked to a bench and sat down heavily. "I'd forgotten."  
  
"I sent you the pictures of Tom and B'Elanna's new baby just a couple of days ago," Owen had said, sitting beside her. "Did you look at them?"  
  
She'd nodded, remembering the fuzzy pictures of the couple, B'Elanna holding a tiny bundle while Tom held a smiling three-year-old Miral on his lap. "Conner. I'm sure B'Elanna was relieved that his forehead ridges were less prominent than Miral's."  
  
He'd nodded, studying her carefully. "I'm just as upset as you are that they moved so far away, Katie."  
  
She found herself wanting to cry and struggled to hide the sudden ambush of her emotions. She was still hurt that nearly half of her crew had decided to leave the Federation and move to an area of the Beta Quadrant that was impossible to visit and difficult to contact by subspace. "You're thinking maybe the study of the Serena Expanse will make it possible to travel safely through non-aligned space. Or at least solve the problems with subspace message traffic so you can have a clearer picture of your new grandson."  
  
"Maybe I am." They sat in silence for a few minutes before Paris finally said, "Have you heard from him?"  
  
"From Tom?"  
  
He smiled at her indulgently. "From Chakotay."  
  
Her eyes had flashed with anger, and she'd lifted her chin in defiance. "We didn't exactly part on the best of terms."  
  
"But you miss him, don't you?"  
  
She'd narrowed her eyes. "You don't believe the rumors, do you? I've told you time and again that Chakotay and I were never more than friends."  
  
"Oh, I know that, Katie. But a close friendship like the two of you had is more durable than romance, you know." He waited a moment. "His breakup with Seven of Nine proved that."  
  
She'd slumped against the back of the bench and sighed. "I do miss him. We worked together for so many years and through so many hard times that, I swear, I can hear his voice in my head."  
  
"Maybe you should take the initiative and write him first. Break the ice."  
  
She'd just laughed. "And say what, Owen? Wish you were here? Wish I were there? Are you sorry yet that you left?" She'd stood up and stretched, noticing for the first time that the sun was slowly setting. They had talked the entire day away. "I think I'll go home and get some sleep."  
  
"Think about what I said, Katie. All you have to do is say hello and tell him what you've been up to for the last two years."  
  
"I'm beginning to see where Tom gets his bossy attitude," she'd teased, heading for the main gate. "Thanks for helping me think this through, Owen."  
  
Back on the shuttle, she roused herself from her thoughts and studied the long range scans, remembering that the Serena Expanse was considered the foothills of non-aligned space. Her planned route would take her to a spot that could give her a good first look at the distant area that many considered the galaxy's worst navigational impediment. It effectively separated Federation space from the area called the Republic and had been a roadblock to exploration for decades.  
  
She gasped when the telemetry from non-aligned space registered on her view screen, trying to imagine the difficulty of navigating across two hundred light years of constant plasma storms, spatial rifts, and temporal anomalies. She tried to imagine the Maquis taking their ragtag assemblage of ships into that chaos, shaking her head in bewilderment. In ancient times, the maps would have adorned an unknown region like this with menacing sea monsters and the warning: Here there be dragons.  
  
She remembered the day Chakotay had come to tell her of their plans to cross non-aligned space and settle in the Republic on the far side.  
  
"You want to leave so much that you'd risk your life crossing that hellhole?" she'd challenged him. She'd argued against their decision to leave. She'd reminded him that the Maquis' sentences had been commuted and that the Federation was famous for giving individuals like them a second chance, but they were anxious to start fresh, without the shadow of their former Maquis activities hanging over them. While she'd helped them avoid serving time in prison, she couldn't erase the past, no matter how much she wanted to do so. And her warnings about the anomalies and the unsavory pirates in non-aligned space had fallen on deaf ears. They were going, and that was that.  
  
She could still see the determination on Chakotay's face a few weeks later when he'd come to tell her goodbye. "You did all you could for us, Kathryn," he'd said, taking her hand, "but we have no future in the Federation as convicted felons. We can make a new start in the Republic. They've offered us responsible positions in their defense force and jobs in their technical plants, and we'd be crazy to pass up the opportunity to start with a clean slate. I promise we'll keep in touch."  
  
She'd let them go, of course, admonishing them to write her on a regular basis, to let her know their experiences, their progress, and their needs. As much as she was sure of their good intentions, communication had been haphazard and infrequent. Subspace messages seldom made it through without heavy distortion, and she was never sure if her messages were received in good condition, if at all. Once in a great while, a message like the one about Conner's birth arrived in decipherable form, but it was the exception, not the rule.  
  
She'd let them go, but the pain of their departure and her feelings of abandonment hadn't lessened with time. She regretted that she hadn't done more to convince them to stay. There were times when her thoughts strayed to the Admiral Janeway who had come back to change Voyager's future. At the time, she had wondered how her future self could have broken the temporal prime directive for such selfish reasons, and yet . . . she pushed the idea away firmly. She'd chosen this solitary life, in spite of her chance to change her future, and there was no way she'd do what the other older woman had done.  
  
"Coffee, black." She stood in front of the shuttle's replicator and watched as the coffee appeared in a black column only to splash out of the compartment onto her boots as the mug appeared some seconds too late to contain it. She smiled as she remembered a similar malfunction in the Delta Quadrant. That time she'd turned to Chakotay, who'd stood behind her with a PADD full of needed repairs and a grin on his face; he'd said, "I'll add replicators to the list."  
  
She sighed as she wiped up the coffee and then pulled the panel from the wall. She wondered if her balky unit on Voyager had somehow notified every other replicator in the Federation of her calling it a glorified toaster. The mechanism's components were strewn about her on the floor when she was suddenly overcome with loneliness and regret.  
  
She laid down her tools, remembering how many times Chakotay had chatted with her while she fiddled with her replicator. It had been a running joke between them that her quarter's replicator had a mean streak that made it torment her by producing burnt roasts, undercooked potatoes, lukewarm coffee, and so on. How he had laughed when, upon their return to the Federation, Tom Paris had admitted that he had toyed with the unit as an on- going, seven-year practical joke. She'd almost had Tom thrown into the brig until she'd seen the laughter in Chakotay's eyes and realized how funny the situation was.  
  
She missed them. She stared at the shifting lights in the expanse, wondering where they were, what they were doing. When they'd left, she hadn't realized how far they were going or how little she'd hear from them or about them. She added their departure to her long list of regrets and considered, for the first time, what her first message to Chakotay would say.  
  
"I miss you," she whispered. "I want to talk to you." She stopped, shaking her head. "No, I need you beside me."  
  
Her reverie was interrupted by a sudden warning chirp from the computer. "Unknown anomaly on the port bow," the voice calmly stated.  
  
Kathryn jumped over the disassembled replicator parts and returned to the pilot's seat. She saw the usual streaming starlight against the black velvet of deep space, but nothing remotely out of the ordinary. "Computer, modify screen to display the anomaly."  
  
Immediately, a sprawling, boiling mass of light and vapor appeared, punctuated by huge arcs of multicolored lightning that nearly overloaded the sensors. A quick check revealed chronotron emissions off the chart.  
  
"A rip in the space/time continuum," she whispered, recognizing the signs. "Computer, activate the ablative armor. Warp six on this heading." She tapped instructions into the panel and waited, but all she could hear was the rhythmic sound of the armor snapping into place. "Computer? Status?"  
  
"Unable to modify course," the computer reported some seconds later. "Warp engines off line."  
  
The tiny ship began to rock as the anomaly grew larger and more menacing. Kathryn tried every trick she could think of to break free from the powerful graviton forces, finally realizing that she couldn't escape. She was trapped like a fly on tar paper, helplessly drawn into the gaping maw of light.  
  
"All power to shields and structural integrity," she ordered, hoping the newly designed ship might be able to stay in one piece in the storm. She gripped the arms of her seat as she realized that after all she'd been through, after all the thousands of light years she'd traveled, she was about to perish inside the relatively safe confines of Federation space.  
  
Seconds later, the ship was drawn into the maelstrom, which then folded in upon itself like a flower returning to the bud, drawing down in size until, mere seconds later, nothing remained but cold, black space. And with the anomaly went all traces of the Delta Shuttle and Admiral Kathryn Janeway.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	2. Chapter 2

"Here There Be Dragons" Part 2 (See part one for disclaimers)

by Mizvoy

Time: Five Years Following the disappearance of Admiral Janeway's Shuttle

Location: The Republic

"Chakotay! Hey! Chakotay?"

Chakotay turned to see B'Elanna Torres waving to him from the balcony of his cabin near the top of the hill. "I'm down here!" he called, making his way toward her from the garden plot he'd been tending at the foot of his back yard. "What are you doing here on your day off?"

The half Klingon woman, heavy with her third child, leaned against the railing and let her friend climb up the hill toward her. "The Bastaan traded for an old beat up shuttle they want to sell us. I thought we'd better go check it out before Junior arrives." She absently patted her swollen belly. "Sounds like it might be the kind of ship we need for interstellar surveys."

Chakotay was interested. They were desperate for more ships, and even a worn out shuttle could provide much needed transportation or serve as a platform for deep space scans or patrols along the border with non-aligned space. "Don't we have six weeks left before your due date?"

"Yeah, but Conner was two weeks early, remember?"

He smiled. "I do, but I also remember that Miral was two weeks late."

"Don't remind me," she groaned as he put an arm around her shoulders. She wrinkled her nose at his sweaty smell. It was a hot sunny day, and he'd been working hard for hours. "How long will it take for you to clean up?"

"Fifteen minutes, if you can spare them," he teased, appreciating the way she was excited about the new ship. "What's so special about an 'old beat up shuttle'?"

"They claim it's a Delta shuttle."

He stared at her. "You must be kidding. One of the Starfleet shuttles based on the Delta Flyer?"

"That's what they claim. I've wanted to study one of those shuttles for years to see what we could adapt to our ships. The technology might be five years old, but it's new to me."

Chakotay hurried into the house, B'Elanna on his heels. "How did they find a Starfleet vessel on this side of nonaligned space?" he asked as he disappeared into the bathroom.

"That's the other thing I want to know."

* * *

Untraah watched with undisguised admiration as the human female walked back toward the house carrying a load of vegetables from the garden. She shouldn't be alive, shouldn't have survived the injuries she'd suffered, and yet here she was, working and contributing to his tiny household in spite of the odds against her. He wished he could take credit for her miraculous healing, but she had largely done it herself. He'd never seen such spirit, determination, and relentless effort to become whole again.

The first time he had seen her, he was sure she was already dead. Her skin was white with the cold of space and her face was caked with a dark brown substance that he later realized was blood from the long gash that spread through her hair from just above the middle of her forehead to behind her left ear. The left side of her body was battered and bruised by the shuttle's rough ride. A quick scan revealed a broken leg and arm, shattered ribs, collapsed lung, ruptured spleen, and a severe concussion. Plus, she'd lost a lot of blood. Only the cold of space had kept her from bleeding to death, but just barely.

The pirates who'd found her damaged ship wanted her alive, and they knew of Untraah's skill as a doctor. They were hoping that she would be able to help them decipher the shuttle's computers and instruct them on its specifications, greatly increasing its value at auction. At first, they'd willingly purchased whatever he'd needed to treat her injuries—sterile glucose water and oxygen, antibiotics and plasma—but they'd withdrawn their support when they realized the shuttle's computer was a total loss and that most of the ship's components were fused beyond repair.

At that point, Untraah had no longer cared whether they paid for her treatment or not. He'd wanted to save this resilient woman simply to pull off the miracle and complete the healing he'd begun.

She'd lain deathly still for two weeks in a deep coma. Untraah and his assistants had faithfully cared for her, spending a small fortune on the supplies she needed. Her species required three times the water of Untraah's people, an exorbitant expense on their arid planet. Plus, coming from an oxygen rich world, she'd needed supplemental oxygen or expensive triox compound even after she was breathing on her own. In spite of this ongoing expense, Untraah never considered giving up on a woman who wouldn't give up on herself. He never regretted keeping her alive.

She wasn't the first of his species that he'd come into contact with. Seven years earlier, he'd had the pleasure of meeting another group of humans who were traveling through non-aligned space. His own ship had been damaged and was adrift space; Untraah was waiting for the inevitable attack by pirates and probable sale into slavery when a small fleet of ragtag ships arrived. He'd never seen vessels like theirs, and was, at first, distrustful of them.

They'd called themselves the Maquis. Their leader, Chakotay, had offered to protect Untraah's ship while members of his crew repaired it, free of charge. Untraah had been so grateful for their help that he'd invited them to follow him to his home planet for a brief period of much needed rest and relaxation before they continued their journey. He'd approved of their plan to head for the Republic, where their skills and talents would be well- received. They'd stayed a week, sharing with him their considerable data base on xenobiology and medicine, which had been invaluable when the female human had arrived. It was his desire to repay them for their generosity that had made him so determined to save her life years later.

The woman arrived at the door and fumbled with the load she carried. He'd warned her that their slightly stronger gravity would necessitate lighter loads, but she continued to push herself to be self-sufficient and to do her share of the work.

"Here, Jane, let me help you."

She handed him the basket gratefully, panting for oxygen. "I forgot to take the O2 canister with me," she said, struggling through the door and toward a chair. He reached for the syringe of tri-ox compound. "No," she insisted, knowing how expensive the drug was, "just let me rest and catch my breath on my own."

"You need the medicine."

"I'm fine," she insisted. She could be incredibly stubborn, and Untraah had learned not to push her too far when she disagreed with him.

He watched her collapse in the chair and take a long drink of water from the canteen she carried with her. The sheen of sweat on her face told him how much she was suffering from the heat and the planet's gravity. She pulled the thin tube of oxygen over her head and breathed deeply, closing her eyes in relief. "Stay inside for the rest of the day," he suggested. "You can help Unlas fix the meal."

"You don't really want me to cook, do you?" she said, smiling in spite of her distress.

He smiled back, remembering how quickly she'd learned their language, how soon she'd adapted to their lifestyle. But, she had never mastered cooking and had never really seemed interested in the process. "You can wash the vegetables," he suggested, "as long as you don't use soap." He enjoyed her laugh. "But first, a nap."

"All right," she agreed reluctantly, her back aching with fatigue. "Just a short one." He watched as she stretched out her legs on the ottoman and laid her head on the cushions with a sigh, almost instantly asleep. He quietly picked up the bag of vegetables and took them to the kitchen.

He wondered again who she was and why she was this far from her home territory. He was pretty certain that Jane was not her real name, but her memory had been slow to return following her recovery, probably a side effect of the spatial/temporal anomaly that had thrown her ship so far away from home. After nearly a year, he was beginning to wonder if her memory would ever return. Too much time had passed for her to experience a natural restoration, and, in spite of his research, he'd been unable to find a treatment to help her.

Her amnesia was spotty, affecting mostly her memory of her identity and of the past ten or fifteen years of her life. Even so, she was bright, perhaps the brightest person he'd ever met, with an almost incredible understanding of science fueled by an insatiable curiosity. She was already able to repair most of the technology in the village, and she had endeared herself to almost everyone from the infants to the elderly with her kindness and gentle sense of humor. They dropped off portions of their water rations for her and left a few cents toward the purchase of her ever- present O2 canisters. In return, she visited them regularly, checking up on repairs she'd made weeks earlier, remembering names and details of people's lives, even if she hadn't seen them in a month. She was a natural leader, mediator, and politician.

But, who was she?

* * *

"I don't think we got our money's worth." B'Elanna slumped in the pilot's seat, tossing a PADD onto the console where it clattered against a variety of discarded tools. "I can't tell what's what without the computer core."

Chakotay looked up from the rear of the shuttle. "Isn't this shuttle supposed to be four or five years old?"

She swiveled toward him in the chair. "It has to be. I checked the production number. This is one of the earliest models, completed five years ago."

"I don't get it. I've checked the chronometer a dozen times, but it's off."

She shrugged. "Maybe it got damaged in a temporal anomaly."

"An anomaly that was smart enough to reset the chronometer four years?"

"You know that stranger things have happened, Chakotay. The anomaly could have brought the shuttle 200 light years in a split second."

"But the hull should be at least four years old."

She looked up at that. "What do you mean?"

He stood up and gave her his tricorder. "These readings show that the shuttle's hull is only about twelve months old."

She studied the readouts and sighed. "Maybe it hasn't been in space all that time? I know when this shuttle was built—nearly five years ago."

"Yet the hull is just barely a year old?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Didn't the pirates say it had just appeared within their sensor range?"

"Well, yes, they did. They said it wasn't there one minute, there the next."

"So it must've just experienced whatever brought it here. What could cause a discrepancy like this?" he asked, prodding her brilliant engineering mind to grapple with the problem.

She frowned. "The laws of physics exist, Chakotay, and we can't change them. If these readings are right, then the ship is less than a year old."

"Time travel?"

"Maybe." She reactivated her tricorder. "I'll scan for it."

While she took her readings, he looked longingly at the slot where the replicator would normally be located. He could use a cup of tea, but the replicator wasn't there. He'd found essential pieces of it stashed under the pilot's seat and strewn near the sleeping bench at the back. It hadn't survived in one piece, of that he was sure, but it was so fragmented that he wondered if it had been in pieces to start with. He fiddled with the power conduits, smiling when he was able to flood the area with light.

"Good work," B'Elanna said absently as she studied her console. "I was about to go cross-eyed in the dark."

Chakotay chuckled, the strong light revealing a stain on the carpeting in front of the replicator. "What's this?" he said, training his tricorder on the spot. "Coffee?"

B'Elanna interrupted his chain of thought as she pulled up the results of her scan on a screen. "Look at this. The whole ship is saturated with signs of time travel, Chakotay. There's evidence of chronotron contamination all over the ship."

"So it really is just a year old?"

She looked up at him. "I think so."

"That means it was thrown across at least 200 light years and four years into the future." They looked at each other. Chakotay could feel his stomach flip over. He was almost afraid to admit to B'Elanna what he was thinking. "Wasn't Kathryn Janeway lost in a shuttle like this?"

"According to the message we got from Harry, the shuttle disappeared without a trace." She paused. "It would've been about five years ago."

"A spatial and temporal displacement wave?"

"She was near the Serena expanse when it happened. That region is a spatial and temporal nightmare to navigate. Other ships have disappeared there that were larger than this one."

He pointed to the stain on the floor. "That's a coffee stain on the floor, B'Elanna."

"She loved coffee."

"Scan for DNA residue while I look in these compartments for clues."

They worked quietly for several minutes.

"Look at this, Chakotay. This brown stain on the edge of this console is blood. Human blood."

"Is it Kathryn's?"

"I don't know," she said, frustrated. "But I do know it's from a human female."

"I found this." Chakotay's hand was trembling as he held out a small piece of metal toward her. "It's an admiral's rank bar."

She stood up and stared down at his hand, barely breathing. "Admiral Janeway's?"

Chakotay could feel his heart pounding. "No way to tell. Did your Bastaan contact ever mention whether the pilot was recovered?"

"I didn't think to ask." She grabbed his arm. "Don't they usually sell captives into slavery?"

He nodded. If Kathryn had been on the shuttle, the chances were good that she had been killed in the violent trip through space and time. If by some miracle she'd survived the trip, she'd probably been sold into slavery about a year earlier. He found that he couldn't think about that possibility, but he also knew they needed to work quickly if they hoped to find her. "Do you know how to reach the pirates who first found the ship?"

She headed for the shuttle's door. "I'll get started on it right away."

"Good. I'll make arrangements to follow up on whatever you find out."

"I want to go with you, Chakotay."

He looked at her swollen belly. "I don't think that's a good idea."

She cursed silently. "Then take Tom."

"I don't know how long this will take, B'Elanna. He might miss the baby's birth."

She stopped at the door and put her hand on his arm. "If Kathryn's still alive out in nonaligned space, you're going to need the best pilot we have and someone you can trust implicitly. Besides, Miral was two weeks late."

And Connor was two weeks early, he thought. He nodded, grateful for her sacrifice. "I'll make it up to you."

"Just find her and bring her back in one piece. That's all I really want."

* * *

Tom Paris sat in the powered-down shuttle trying not to shiver in the deepening cold. Chakotay had been gone almost six hours, long enough to have found the pirate Renat and pummeled the information out of him twice, if necessary. Tom decided to wait one more hour before he went out looking for him. In a blizzard. Why did these pirates choose such unpleasant hiding places?

Fifty-eight minutes later, while Tom was pulling on his snow boots, someone started pounding on the hatch. Tom activated his scanner and picked up human life signs. Moments later, a nearly frozen Chakotay stumbled into the shuttle. He was reeking of alcohol and smoke—probably from the bar supposedly frequented by Renat.

"I'm gonna be sick," he announced matter-of-factly, as he turned and retched into the waste receptacle. Tom swallowed hard and headed for the helm. Even after a decade as a medic and many years as a father, some smells were just hard to take.

"I assume we need to get the hell out of here," he said, warming up the engines and preparing for launch.

"The sooner the better," Chakotay answered, collapsing onto the sleeping bench in the back of the ship. "Renat wasn't very cooperative, but I found out what I needed to know. It was Kathryn, all right, but he didn't know or care whether she'd survived. As far as he knows, she never even regained consciousness."

Tom grimaced as the ship lurched off the planet's surface, slowly gaining speed and altitude against the vicious wind speed of the blizzard. He couldn't see ten feet in front of him, but his scan of the surface showed several life signs approaching the ship's recent hiding place. He knew that a pirate's vessel would soon follow them into space. "Any suggestions on where we should go?"

"Remember Untraah?"

"That guy we bailed out of trouble in non-aligned space?"

"The pirates left Kathryn with him. What was left of her." Chakotay groaned as he slumped forward on the bench, cradling his stomach.

"That's good luck. Untraah's a decent doc, remember?" As soon as the tiny ship reached orbit, Tom programmed the helm to take them deeper into nonaligned space and turned to his partner. "Did you have rough him up?"

"I had to kill him." Chakotay's voice was cold, unemotional. "He jumped me after I left, Tom. He would've killed me if I hadn't killed him first."

Tom stood up just as his friend slumped sideways on the bench, his eyes glassy with pain, his hands dark with fresh blood. Tom's eyes widened in horror, "Chakotay!"

* * *

Untraah decided that Jane would never completely recover until she was somewhere more like her home world, so he began to look for a water- and oxygen-rich planet somewhere close by, one with sufficient technology to provide a chance for the treatment she needed. Of course, "close by" was measured in dozens of light years in this region of space and involved travel through pirate-infested and troublesome territory. His felt sure that Jane's recovery had stalled because of her struggle to keep herself hydrated and oxygenated sufficiently didn't allow her the luxury of a complete healing. Jane was receptive to the idea of leaving, although she insisted that she was happy living with Untraah's people.

Jane's technical skills and his medical experience were the factors that made their departure possible. Untraah found a trading ship that needed two individuals with their training, so he and Jane signed on for a short- term tour with the understanding that they would leave if they found a planet more suitable to her physical needs. In the meantime, the ship's environment was closer to human specifications, something Untraah could easily adjust to, and its equipment lent itself to the construction of a neural stimulator, a device that Untraah had found in the human medical database and that he believed could help restore her memory.

"What is this?" Jane asked as she helped him unpack his few belongings on the transport ship. She held a Federation PADD in her hand.

"It's a PADD. A data storage device I was given by the Maquis. It contains medical information on humans, like yourself, as well as on other species they'd come into contact with."

"PADD. What does that stand for?"

He shook his head. "I never asked. Would you like to examine it?"

"Yes, I would. Does it contain the specifications for the neural stimulator you were telling me about?"

"Let me show you." They sat down side by side at his tiny table while he activated the unit. "These touch pads activate the device and allow you to examine its contents."

Her long auburn hair fell down around her shoulders as she examined the PADD, pulling up page after page of data. "I've used these before," she said, quickly mastering the program. "Who did you say gave it to you?"

"The Maquis. They were humans, like you, who passed through our region of space five years ago. They saved my life and brought me home after my ship was disabled."

She looked up, her eyes narrowed, yet unfocused. "The Maquis? That's a familiar term to me. What were their names? Do you have pictures of them?"

Untraah rooted around in his bag for a data chip that included some holoimages of the humans he'd met. The oxygen rich atmosphere of the transport ship, while making him a little woozy, was already improving Jane's thinking abilities. Her curiosity was growing by leaps and bounds, and she seemed intent on researching her history and solving the mystery of her identification. "Here it is," he said, pulling out a thin chip. "This should fit into the access port on the ship monitor."

She followed him to the built-in computer access and watched him slide the chip into he receptacle. Immediately, pictures of their recent departure appeared on the screen, including Untraah's wife and children. Jane ducked her head. "I'm so sorry to be taking you away from your home and family," she apologized.

"Think nothing of it, Jane. You need to find a home more suitable to your biology. I'm glad to help."

Tears came to her eyes. "I owe you so much, Untraah. How can I ever repay you for your kindness?"

"You don't need to," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "These humans, the Maquis, saved me from death or slavery and wouldn't take payment. Taking care of you helps pay back my debt to them." He scrolled through the menu on the disc. "Here are the leaders of the group."

The screen filled with the images of three humans—Chakotay, Tom Paris, and B'Elanna Torres—standing with their arms around each other and with huge smiles on their faces. Jane's eyes widened with surprise. "I know these people!"

Untraah was sympathetic. "It's just that you've gone so long without seeing your own kind."

"No. I recognize the tattoo on this man's face." She frowned. "Jack? Chak?"

He was stunned. "Chakotay?"

"Chakotay," she whispered, reaching out to touch the screen. "And Tom? Or Tim? And Bella? No, not Bella."

"Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres. You do know them."

She was suddenly dizzy and swayed on her feet. Untraah helped her to his bunk. "I feel sick," she admitted as he lowered her onto the bed, her head swimming.

"Rest here. This is a big moment for you. Perhaps their familiar faces will trigger more of your memories. When you feel up to it, I'll show you more pictures."

She turned her face to the wall to hide her tears. "I can't remember. I know them, but I can't remember how."

"We'll figure it out, Jane. I promise. We won't give up until we find some answers."

She sobbed quietly until she fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

B'Elanna Torres swore at the communications console as she struggled to clear up the recent subspace message from the Federation. Two hundred light years wasn't much, but with all the illegal traffic and eavesdropping done in nonaligned space, the absence of subspace relay stations, plus the spatial anomalies, clear subspace communication was always beset with difficulties. After nearly thirty minutes of effort, she finally cleared up the recent message from Harry Kim at Starfleet HQ in San Francisco.

She had sent him a message a week earlier regarding their discovery of the Delta Shuttle. She was hoping that he could shed some light on what Starfleet thought had happened to their former captain five years earlier. She wished for the thousandth time that they could establish a real-time subspace channel with the Federation, but realized that this reply to her questions was about all she could realistically expect.

After what seemed an interminable wait, the familiar face of her friend appeared on her screen. She was gratified to see the pips of a lieutenant commander on his turtleneck.

"Hey! B'Elanna! It was a pleasant surprise to hear from you! Admiral Paris forwarded your previous letter to me, so I was hoping to hear that you'd had the baby. Not yet, huh? Well, if it's a boy, I still think Harry Paris has a special ring to it."

"Not hardly, Starfleet," she chuckled.

"I've verified that the serial number on the shuttle you found matches the one Admiral Janeway was flying five years ago. We're all wondering if you'll discover that she survived, as well--she's come back from the dead before, you know. Unfortunately, her mom passed away about six months ago. Her sister and her family live in the Alpha Quadrant and want you to let them know what you find out. I'm sending their location to you now.

"I'm also sending some technical data on the shuttle you found. It may help you access what's left of the computer and understand some of the upgrades we made. Of course, it's an older version of what we're using now, but if you can get it back to speed, it'll be a great little ship for you.

"Now, here's just a quick update on some of the old gang. Tuvok is a senior captain. He has seven grandchildren and a peppering of gray hair, but, I swear, he doesn't look a day older than he did on Voyager eight years ago. Sam and Naomi are living in the same Starfleet complex I am here in San Francisco." He went on to tell her about half a dozen more people before the reception became so bad that she couldn't see his face or understand what he was saying.

B'Elanna pushed away from the console and stared out the window into the gathering darkness. Just as she and Chakotay had suspected, this shuttle was Janeway's, but with the interesting twist that its hull was four years younger that it should be. She was almost positive that it had been caught in a spatial/temporal rift of some sort and that it had been in non-aligned space for less than a year. If the admiral had survived the trip through the rift, she might very well still be alive. And if she was alive, B'Elanna knew Tom and Chakotay would find her.

* * *

Chakotay gradually became aware of his surroundings. At first, he thought he was on Voyager again and struggled to remember what he needed to be doing. But then he realized he was on the Flyer, with Tom Paris' voice a constant companion. He opened his eyes to find the pilot smiling down at him.

"Good. You're finally waking up. Your injuries were almost too severe for me to handle without help."

"What?" He struggled to sit up. "What happened?"

"I wish you would've told me you were injured during your struggle with Renat. You almost made treating you a moot point."

He was groggy, but remembered fragments of what had happened. He remembered the struggle with the foul-smelling alien outside a run-down bar and the burning pain of a knife blade in his side. And he knew that Renat's crew was after him. "We had to get away first, or both of us would've been killed."

"Well, right now we're hiding in a nebula with three of Renat's pirate ships waiting patiently for us to emerge. I give them another twenty-four hours before they come in after us."

Chakotay managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed, his arm pushed instinctively against the newly healed wound in his right side. "They won't wait long. As soon as they realize Renat is gone for good, they'll begin maneuvering for his position. They'll be at each other's throats any time now and forget about us."

"I hope you're right." He helped Chakotay to the tiny table. "Let me get you some tea and some broth."

"I told you what he said about Kathryn?"

"That he left her with Untraah? That was good luck. If anyone could help her, he could."

"That was only part of it. Her ship had been adrift for days. He said she was nearly frozen when they found her."

Tom placed a mug and plate in front of his friend, and then sat down across from him. "That could actually work in her favor, Chakotay. The cold could slow down her metabolism enough to actually keep her alive."

"I hope so. When the pirataes realized the ship was unsalvageable, they just left her with Untraah and sold the ship for junk." He sipped the tea and closed his eyes as the warm liquid moistened his dry throat. "You remember what Untraah's planet was like."

"Class M, barely. Arid with minimum oxygen. And the gravity. Whenever we beamed back from the surface, I felt like I'd just finished running a marathon. Still, she could survive there. Untraah could take care of her better than almost anyone in non-aligned space."

"If she were there for any length of time, she'd need extra water and O2, neither of which comes cheaply."

"Untraah's a good guy. He'd take care of her."

Chakotay fought down his sense of panic. "We need to go there right away."

"As soon as your pirates start their infighting," Paris promised. "In the meantime, drink your tea."

Chakotay sighed. What else could he do? Their chances of surviving a confrontation with three pirate ships were next to none. And, they couldn't do Kathryn any good if they were dead. "Do you have any crackers to go with this?" he asked, finally.

"Whatever you'd like, Commander," Tom replied, smiling. He sat forward, suddenly earnest. "Really, old man, you had me scared. I'm glad you're getting better."

"Thanks, Tom." He'd been lucky to have Tom, a well trained medic, with him on this trip. He'd have to thank B'Elanna for sending her husband once they got back to the Republic. Once they found Kathryn.

To be continued . . .


	3. Chapter 3

"Here There Be Dragons" Part 3 (See part one for disclaimers)  
  
by Mizvoy  
  
The makeshift neural stimulator looked to Jane like a medieval torture device. Clumsy and awkward, it fastened onto her head with clamps normally used to hold temporary melds in engineering, clamps that left tiny pinpricks in her skin where a dot of blood coagulated. The wiring surrounding the clamps was the tangled web of a demented spider. She looked up at Untraah, her doubts clearly written on her face. "Will it work?"  
  
He smiled. "I know it looks primitive, but it meets every tolerance required by medical database the Maquis gave me. All we need is the power."  
  
Power. The device was incredibly greedy. They had run it at half power only once and had nearly blown every panel in her quarters. If they tried to use power from the transport ship for a real treatment session, they were likely to be stopped by the bridge, with no telling what impact on their continued welcome. No, they would have to work and save toward the purchase of the alternative power source they needed, even if it took several more weeks or months. "We could bypass the tests."  
  
"No, Jane," he insisted. "I'm not willing to take that kind of risk with your health. We've put too much time and effort into your recovery to jeopardize it because of your impatience."  
  
Not Jane exactly, she thought, but Jane Something. Or maybe Something Jane. She resigned herself to his decision. "Very well, then. It's time for me to report to duty." She put on her work tunic and turned to him. "Our next port of call has real possibilities, Untraah."  
  
"I know. Luxtor. I'll talk to the navigator about it. If it seems acceptable when we arrive, I'll see if the captain will drop us off there. Luxtor needs workers, I understand, and pays a bounty to ships that bring them. We can start working toward the purchase of the power cell as soon as we arrive."  
  
She smiled at him, a tender look on her face. "Soon, you'll be able to go home."  
  
"That's right," he agreed, patting her on the back. "Soon, maybe both of us can go home."  
  
"The Federation is too far away," she said, fighting back despair. "And I think my luck has run out."  
  
"Don't give up, Jane. You might find a way home when you least expect it."  
  
"I hope you're right."

* * *

Chakotay could barely restrain his joy. "She's alive! She's alive, Tom!" He grabbed the pilot by the shoulders and shook him. "Can you believe it? Only Kathryn Janeway could beat odds like that!"  
  
Tom was happy, too, but hardly ready to jump for joy as his friend was. "You're right there! She has better luck than any other unlucky person I ever met. All we have to do is track her down."  
  
His friend stopped momentarily, and then seemed to deflate before his eyes, his arms falling to his sides. "Right. They've been gone for weeks. No telling where she is by now."  
  
Travel through non-aligned space was so treacherous that no one publicized their next stop or the direction they planned to take on leaving the planet. Many times, any information given was deliberately misleading to prevent pirates from following them or setting up an ambush. Tom knew they were looking at a difficult and perhaps lengthy pursuit, and he knew that Chakotay was impatient to find the admiral.  
  
"Don't lose hope, Chakotay. We know what transport she and Untraah were on. We also know what kind of planet they were looking for. We'll work a standard search pattern. It's just a matter of time before we find them."  
  
Chakotay nodded, trying to feel positive about their luck. "And maybe her memory is improving now that she's in a better environment."  
  
"If anybody can help her, Untraah can. He's a good guy and he cares about her."  
  
Chakotay smiled at the irony of it all. "Kathryn always said that good deeds are their own reward, but this time, our helping Untraah all those years ago really paid off. His wife said that when he saw that Kathryn was human like us, he wanted to do something to repay the Maquis for their generosity."  
  
"Yeah. That was one of the things I admired most about the captain. She always gave people a second chance and always did the right thing. In the long run, kindness and generosity pays off." He watched Chakotay get up and make his way to the back of the ship. Then he said to himself, "At least this time they did."

* * *

Untraah looked in despair at the fused wires and broken circuits. The first full-power test of the neural transmitter had resulted in disaster, creating a feedback loop that destroyed the delicate, if clumsy looking device in a matter of seconds. He finally tore his eyes from the blackened clamps and looked up at his friend. "I'm sorry, Jane. I thought I had it calibrated properly."  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes shining and not at all disappointed. "It's Janeway," she said, suddenly remembering, "and it was only a first try. I'll find out why it didn't work and learn from our mistakes. Then I'll rebuild it and try again. And again, if I have to."  
  
"We'll rebuild it together and try again."  
  
"No. You need to go home. I'm fine here on Luxtor. I have a decent job making enough money to buy what I need. You've done enough for me, too much, actually. You need to go home to your family."  
  
"Who will help you run the actual procedure when the time comes? Who will monitor your condition while the stimulator is working? I have to stay. I promised to see this through."  
  
She frowned, overwhelmed with guilt for his prolonged absence from home and family. "I'll find someone to help me when the time comes. I'll be fine."  
  
"No. I won't leave until you find someone that I know I can trust with your life. Besides, with both of us working on it, we'll be finished that much sooner."  
  
She sighed and shook her head. "You're every bit as stubborn as . . ."  
  
"As whom?"  
  
"I was going to say Chakotay. I think."  
  
Untraah chuckled, remembering the headstrong Maquis leader. "Perhaps you did know him, then." He stifled a yawn. "I must get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."  
  
"Goodnight," she said automatically, her mind already focused on something else. She walked over to the console and slipped in the data chip that contained her copies of the Maquis holograms. She slowly flipped through the collection, studying each face carefully, trying to remember. She felt lonely. She longed to go home from this long trip, this endless voyage. Voyage? Voyager?  
  
"You need some sleep, too, Janeway," Untraah hollered from his room as he turned off the light.  
  
"Right away," she answered, thinking of a hot drink. Something bitter, to clear her mind. But what?

* * *

Tom Paris piloted the tiny shuttle while Chakotay prepared a meal in the aft compartment. Their spirits had lifted considerably once they knew the admiral was still alive, that their search for her was, with any luck, going to be successful. He'd seen the relieved look on B'Elanna's face when he'd told her the news, and he'd sensed the building excitement in Chakotay as they came closer and closer to tracking her down.  
  
Tom remembered how Chakotay had reacted to the news of Kathryn's disappearance nearly five years earlier. He'd been terribly distraught, spending long hours alone, and he had refused to believe for a moment that she was dead. She'd disappeared before, he'd argued, 70,000 light years into the Delta Quadrant and been written off for dead, but she'd survived, even thrived. She was missing. She'd be back. He never stopped believing it and became angry when people spoke of her in the past tense.  
  
The relationship between Voyager's command team had always been a mystery to Tom. For awhile, he'd thought they were falling in love with each other. He'd sit on the bridge and listen to them chatter away behind his seat on the command deck, occasionally whispering and laughing about who knew what. They'd spent endless hours together working on plans, contingencies, routes through space, and solving literally hundreds of crises. He'd heard them arguing in the ready room, in the mess hall, and in the passageways, about everything from the Borg to the time and supplies spent preparing for Neelix's Prixin celebration. At the time, he was convinced that they had become lovers on New Earth. How could they not? Yet, upon their return, they remained detached, if not even more distant from each other than before. They'd never been involved romantically, he knew that now, yet they were much more than friends. It was a puzzle he sometimes obsessed over.  
  
"Lunch is ready, Tom."  
  
He sighed and set the helm on autopilot. "Coming, 'Mother.' What are we having today?"  
  
"I'm having pasta primavera. You're having a hamburger and fries."  
  
"Yum." Tom sat down and slathered his fries with ketchup. "You certainly know the way to a man's heart, Chakotay."  
  
His friend snorted in reply and dove into his pasta. "I figure we're no more than a couple of days behind them. What do you think?"  
  
"Probably. They've made stops along the way while we've been able to travel at a steady pace. I think they'd probably stop at Luxtor."  
  
"I thought that, too, but their ship wasn't carrying anything of value to Luxtor. Maybe we should skip it."  
  
"But it's the best spot for a human in the sector, and they pay a bounty to any ship that brings workers. She couldn't find a better spot in this part of non-aligned space."  
  
Chakotay toyed with the long strands of pasta, curling and uncurling it on his fork. "You might be right. Untraah told his wife he thinks the proper environment—oxygen and water—will help her regain her memory."  
  
"Plus he wants to build a neural stimulator, remember? Luxtor is advanced enough technologically to have what he needs for that."  
  
Chakotay made a decision. He smiled at Tom. "Once we finish eating, we head for Luxtor."  
  
"Whatever you say, Commander. It can't hurt to ask around before we pass it by." They ate in silence awhile, and then Tom said, "Do you think she'll get her memory back?"  
  
"I don't know, Tom. I hope so."  
  
"She probably won't remember us, you know, or anything about Voyager."  
  
Chakotay chewed his pasta thoughtfully. "Whether she remembers us or not, she's still Kathryn. Still the captain. You'll see."  
  
"Just how close were you two, anyway?"  
  
The older man narrowed his eyes at his pilot. He knew, of course, that his friendship with Kathryn was legend among the crew and that Tom had run a covert betting pool for years to be won by anyone who could prove the intimacy of their relationship. "She's the best friend I ever had, Tom."  
  
"That's all?"  
  
He smiled at the younger man indulgently. "How many true friends can a person have in one lifetime? One, maybe two, if you're lucky." His eyes grew thoughtful. "She's my truest friend. She wants for me what I want for myself."  
  
"I don't get it. I thought, for awhile anyway, that you wanted her."  
  
"Oh, I did want her. I wanted to possess her, to have her all to myself, but people can't be possessed like that, Tom, especially not people like Kathryn."  
  
"You love her."  
  
"I loved her."  
  
"But you were never together!"  
  
Chakotay laughed. "You're so narrow minded, Tom. You think love always has something to do with physical closeness? Love isn't sex. Love is in the heart. Once someone has taken her place in your heart, her physical presence is optional."  
  
Tom shook his head. "I don't get it. B'Elanna's presence is not optional to me."  
  
"You've been lucky with B'Elanna. You met her at a time when you were both able to act on your love for each other. If it ever happens that you're apart for a long time, or if you lose her, God forbid, you'll understand what I mean. Whether she's with you or not, whether you can express your love for her or not, you'll still love her and that will have to be enough."  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
Chakotay patted his hand. "I'll explain it again later, when you grow up."  
  
Tom laughed. "God help me. You're a philosopher."  
  
"Yes. You know, Kathryn has a weakness for philosophers. Now, let's finish eating and head for Luxtor. The more I think about it, the more I think she's stopped there."

* * *

The two humans had spent three frustrating days searching for their friends on Luxtor. They had started with the largest, most advanced city, but were dismayed by the sheer number of people living there. Scans of the population had revealed enough species close to human to make their search inconclusive. In exasperation, they had beamed down to stroll through a market in the capital city to randomly search the crowd. They were arguing about where to eat lunch when they heard someone calling their names.  
  
Untraah walked toward them, his face beaming. "Chakotay! Tom Paris! What a surprise to find you here!"  
  
"We've been looking for you," Chakotay said, grasping Untraah's hand firmly, his heart pounding in his chest. "We understand that Kathryn Janeway is with you."  
  
"Kathryn? Her name is Kathryn?" Untraah nodded. She'd thought they had her name wrong. "Her memory is spotty, even after all these weeks in an oxygen rich environment," Untraah replied. "For awhile we thought her name was simply 'Jane.' After I showed her my pictures of the Maquis, she remembered 'Janeway,' but not Kathryn."  
  
Chakotay could barely contain his excitement. "Then she's here, on Luxtor?"  
  
"Yes, but she's at work," Untraah glanced around, spotting a bench in a park across the street. "Let's sit down and talk."  
  
Once they were settled, Untraah filled them in on Kathryn's injuries and painful struggle to recover in the difficult environment of his home planet. "We've been gone a couple of months, and I can see some improvement," he said proudly. "But, that seems to have leveled off. My hope is that the neural stimulator we're building will restore the rest of her memory."  
  
"There's no need to build one," Tom interjected. "We have one at our clinic in the Republic."  
  
Untraah's face glowed with pleasure. "That's wonderful news! Janeway gets off work in just a few hours. She'll be thrilled to see you and to find out about your medical equipment. She thought the one we built looked like a medieval torture device."  
  
Chakotay laughed. "That sounds just like her. You said you showed her pictures of the Maquis. What did she say? Did she remember us?"  
  
"She knew your names, especially yours, Tom's, and B'Elanna's. But she doesn't remember how she knows you."  
  
Chakotay masked his disappointment. "Remember us telling you about being stranded for seven years in the Delta Quadrant? Kathryn Janeway was our captain. We lived and worked together for years."  
  
"She was a ship's captain? I'm not surprised. Perhaps your presence will help restore her memory. She's won't be home until dark, several hours yet. In the meantime, I'd like the opportunity to read more about this neural stimulator."  
  
Tom said, "I'd be happy to take you up to the Flyer. You can look over the entire sickbay, if you want, although it's pretty small. Too bad we don't have a full-fledged treatment unit for you to study."  
  
"Yes, I'd like to see the sickbay. When can we go?"  
  
"No time like the present."  
  
"If it's okay with you," Chakotay interjected, "I'll stay down here and wait for Kathryn."  
  
"Sure. Let me give you the address and access codes to the apartment. She should be home in three hours or so."

* * *

Janeway was always exhausted at the end of her twelve-hour shift at the power plant, but walked the two miles home to save the transport fare. Every spare cent went toward the construction of a new cortical stimulator. They even took turns cooking meals instead of paying for the expense of the replicator in their tiny apartment. She stopped at the market to pick up some fresh vegetables for a salad as well as some tinned fish. So far, her greatest cooking success had been meals that were extremely simple to fix, tonight salad and tuna noodle casserole. Cooking did not seem to come naturally to her.  
  
By the time she reached the apartment complex, she wanted nothing else but to crawl into bed and go to sleep. Glancing up at the windows of the apartment, she noticed that they were dark. It struck her as odd that no one was at home, because Untraah's shift at the hospital began in less than two hours and he was usually there when she arrived home, waiting to share dinner with her before he left for work. Perhaps he was taking a nap.  
  
She trudged up the stairs and approached their doorway, stopping in her tracks when she realized that the door was ajar, even though the interior lights were off. Something was wrong. Perhaps someone had broken into the apartment to steal the expensive technology they had been investing in. She felt the thrill of fear crawl up her spine as she gently pushed the door open and peeked into the living room.  
  
The last rays of a beautiful sunset were pouring through the open windows, casting into silhouette a large humanoid who was clearly not Untraah. Janeway gently set the bag of food down inside the door and crept into the kitchen where they had a small phaser hidden in a drawer. The sounds of traffic from the street two floors below masked her quiet approach. Even though the stranger was a nearly a foot taller than she and probably eighty pounds heavier, she had no doubt that she could subdue him as long as she had the element of surprise on her side and a phaser in her hand.  
  
In a split second, she had the man's left arm pulled up tight behind his back and the phaser pressed firmly into the right side of his neck. "Don't try anything, or I'll shoot," she growled.  
  
"Kathryn, it's me. Chakotay." She had caught him completely by surprise. While he knew he could easily overpower her in an even fight, he couldn't do it before she pulled the trigger, so he forced himself to relax, hoping she'd recognize his voice. "You remember me. Untraah showed you my picture."  
  
Kathryn? Confused, she tightened her hold. He was speaking a different language, yet she understood it perfectly. And his voice did sound familiar. She answered in Federation Standard, "Where's Untraah?"  
  
"Tom Paris is showing him the neural stimulator on our ship." He held his breath and waited. From her grip on him, he could tell that Kathryn obviously remembered her Starfleet combat training. He just hoped that she also retained her preference for listening before taking action. "Tom and I met Untraah years ago when the Maquis passed through this sector. He told you about that. He said you remembered our names when he showed you our pictures."  
  
She relaxed slightly. "Raise your hands and keep them up," she said, and then stepped back, keeping the phaser trained on his back while she quickly checked him with her free hand for a hidden weapon. Satisfied that he was unarmed, she increased the distance between them and told him to turn around.  
  
He studied her in the fading light. She seemed smaller, perhaps because of the flat shoes she wore and the civilian clothes that accentuated her femininity. Her hair had grown long again, curling below her shoulders, but her eyes were unchanged—right now a steely grey. To him, she looked beautiful, like a dream come true, and he found it impossible to look away from her. "May I lower my hands now?"  
  
"Yes. Then tell me again what you've done with Untraah."  
  
"I haven't 'done' anything with him. We ran into him at the market this afternoon. He was telling us about the neural stimulator you're trying to build, and Tom volunteered to take him to our ship to show him our sickbay. If you'll let me press this badge on my chest, you can talk to him."  
  
She studied his face and nodded, still wary. "Do it."  
  
He smiled in spite of himself to hear her familiar words. "I must say, Kathryn, that you haven't lost the knack for command." He tapped the badge. "Chakotay to Paris."  
  
"Paris here. What's up?"  
  
"Kathryn's arrived. She wants to talk to Untraah."  
  
There was a rustling sound, and then Untraah's voice. "I'm sorry, Janeway," he said. "I meant to be finished here and back on the surface before you arrived home from work. Did Chakotay's presence in the apartment frighten you?"  
  
She hesitated, unsure how to proceed, so Chakotay said, "Just talk. They'll hear you."  
  
"I think I surprised him more than he surprised me," she answered, putting the phaser on the counter. "You're sure everything's all right."  
  
"I trust these people, Janeway, and you can, too. Why don't you start dinner? Tom and I will be there in about half an hour."  
  
"All right." The communications link broken, Kathryn relaxed visibly. "I suppose I should apologize for my lack of hospitality."  
  
"Not at all. I'm glad to see that you can still take care of yourself. Besides, I shouldn't have let myself into the apartment without your knowledge, even if Untraah did give me the access code. Anyone would be suspicious about a stranger in their home." He realized she was staring at him. "Is something wrong?"  
  
She blushed, suddenly aware of the fact of her bad manners. "It's strange to be with another human, that's all."  
  
He stared back at her, unwilling to tear his gaze from the face he'd thought he'd never see again. He wanted to throw his arms around her in sheer joy at seeing her alive and well. "Untraah told us about your injuries and your amnesia. I was hoping that just meeting me would help you remember. Apparently, you remember how to speak Federation standard."  
  
"Amnesia." She said the word as if she'd heard it for the first time. "So we've met before."  
  
"You could say that." He chuckled, running his hand through his hair. "We worked together for seven years on Voyager."  
  
Her head snapped up. "Voyager. I've been thinking about that name. A ship?"  
  
"Yes." He took her hand and led her to the sofa. "You were the captain, and I was your first officer. We were stranded in the Delta Quadrant."  
  
She frowned and pushed her hair away from her face with both hands as she leaned over her knees. "I don't remember. I know I should." She sat up and studied his face, reaching out and brushing his tattoo with her fingers. "I remember your face and your voice, though."  
  
He smiled tenderly, taking her hand between his as he looked into her eyes. "I'm glad. I know I'd never forget you."  
  
She could feel her heart pounding as she reacted to him. For a long moment they stared at each other, each feeling an incredible tug of affection, before she finally pulled her hand away and stood up to break the spell. "I should fix dinner."  
  
"You've actually learned to cook?"  
  
She turned to him in surprise. "Well, sort of. I was going to make a salad and a tuna noodle casserole."  
  
"Kathryn," he chided her, "let me help you. Cooking was never your long suit."  
  
"Some things don't change, I guess." Frankly, she was relieved to have him take over and willingly subordinated herself to him in the kitchen. "I do know how to stir pots and cut up vegetables."  
  
"Great. You can be my sous chef. Let me do a survey of what's available and then we can go from there."  
  
They spent the next thirty minutes organizing the dinner. Kathryn was amazed at Chakotay's expertise in using whatever food was available to create an interesting and appetizing meal. She especially enjoyed the friendly banter between them as he teased her and regaled her with stories of their mutual past. She was laughing at one of his stories when she lost her concentration and cut her finger.  
  
"Let me see it," he demanded as she wrapped a dish towel around her finger. The blood was quickly soaking through the white material as he took her hand and peeked beneath the towel. "Not too bad. Do you have a dermal regenerator?"  
  
"In the bathroom," she said, wincing as he gripped her hand and applied pressure to the injury. "Right across the hall."  
  
They walked together to the medicine cabinet where Kathryn took the tool from a drawer with her uninjured hand and gave it to him.  
  
"This won't take a minute," he said, his head bowed over the injury. She watched as he passed the instrument over the wound, amazed as always to see a gaping cut seal itself, miraculously leaving a faint red line of new skin. Once he was finished, he brought the hand to his lips and kissed the palm. "All better."  
  
She was standing so close to him that she could feel the heat radiating from his body and his warm breath on her fingers. Her pulse raced. He must have sensed her reaction, because he looked up from her hand into her eyes and caught his breath. She'd just met him, didn't know him, and yet she couldn't deny the attraction she felt for him. She was drawn to him like a magnet and found herself leaning toward him, tilting her head to meet his lips with her own.  
  
"Hello, honey! We're home!" Paris joked from the apartment door.  
  
They pulled away from each other so quickly that Kathryn almost lost her balance. Chakotay steadied her with a hand to her elbow as she said, "We're in here. I cut my hand and Chakotay was treating it."  
  
Untraah peeked in, concern on his face. "Was the injury serious?"  
  
She held her hand out to him as Chakotay quickly excused himself and returned to the kitchen. "Not at all. See? It's already healed."  
  
He looked relieved. "Something smells wonderful."  
  
"Thank Chakotay. He's a miracle worker."  
  
"Janeway, I think you should return with these people to the Republic. They are your own kind and understand better than anyone how to treat your injury."  
  
"That's a good suggestion," she agreed as they returned to the kitchen.  
  
"Captain Janeway!" Paris gushed, rushing to her, picking her up and twirling her around the apartment. "It's really you!"  
  
"You're Tom Paris?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am, and I'm very glad to see you again!" He grinned up at her as he held her at arms' length.  
  
"Well, Tom, I'm glad, too. Now, put me down before you drop me."  
  
He complied and gave Chakotay a smirk. "She still knows how to give orders. Some things never change."  
  
Chakotay smiled and gave Kathryn a wink. "And some things do."

* * *

Following their meal, Untraah left for his shift at the hospital and Tom and Chakotay prepared to beam back to the Flyer. Chakotay was reluctant to leave Kathryn alone. She seemed unusually vulnerable and unsure of herself, as if her injuries had, in some way, weakened her self-confidence, and he worried that the shock of meeting them might cause her unnecessary stress. Even so, she insisted on staying behind.  
  
"I'll be fine," she promised him, putting her hand on his arm. "I need time to organize my belongings, and I need to let my boss at the plant know I'll be leaving."  
  
He looked down at her, suppressing his long-held desire to protect her, and said, "Just in case, I'm leaving a commbadge with you so you can contact us if you need us." He fastened the familiar device to her shirt.  
  
"Thanks, but I'm sure I'll be fine." When she looked up at him, he saw a hesitancy and need for reassurance in her expression that he'd never seen before, and he realized how truly lost she must feel. "But, you don't know how glad I'll be to see you again."  
  
He wanted to put his arms around her, to tell her that he wouldn't leave her, that he'd do everything within his power to make her well again. But, he could tell that her emotional control was slipping and that she was afraid of embarrassing herself by becoming overly upset in front of her newly restored friends.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, after your work shift," he said, backing away and giving her some much-needed distance.  
  
Once he disappeared in a blue transporter haze, Kathryn retired to her room to do some packing and prepare for bed. The events of the afternoon had excited and unnerved her, so she ran a hot bath to help her relax and think. She did her best thinking when she was in hot water, she thought with a grin.  
  
The last year had been a struggle that had, at times, almost overwhelmed her. She'd been exhausted all the time on Untraah's home world, gasping for breath and tormented by thirst every hour of every day. She'd been gratified by the improvement in her memory in recent days, hoping that one day she'd awaken and know her name, where she lived, who she really was, but she hadn't been surprised when the miracle hadn't happened. At least she was better physically, healthier and stronger than she'd been in months. She had been grateful for that much and ready to settle for a new life without her past when Tom and Chakotay had suddenly appeared and thrown her for a loop.  
  
Tom Paris and Chakotay. She knew them, yet she couldn't really remember them, and the feeling was strange and unsettling. While they seemed absolutely comfortable with her, she was unsure of the true nature of their former relationship, and as a result felt off balance, wishing she could draw on their shared history. All she had were her current feelings and an echo of the past, like déjà vu. In some ways, she felt more threatened by their presence than she was comforted because she could see in their eyes how much of herself she'd lost.  
  
She was especially unnerved by her emotional reaction to Chakotay. The sight of his face had brought physical shock that hinted at a deep, intimate bond. But what kind of bond, exactly? She could see affection in his eyes, but also a reticence and iron-fisted control that prevented him from acting on his feelings for her.  
  
Was he distant because of her amnesia? Because he didn't want to push her? Because he was unsure of how she felt about him? She groaned in frustration. Had they been together years ago and decided to separate? Had they hurt each other and parted on bad terms? She shook her head, wishing for enough information to understand her reaction to him. He had come through non-aligned space years ago without her, which meant that they couldn't have been together in a long time.  
  
So why did she have such strong feelings for him?  
  
She was still unable to sleep after the soak and spent another hour packing her belongings, finally stretching out in the darkness on her narrow bed to wait for sleep. Her name was Kathryn Janeway. "Kathryn Janeway," she said into the darkness, trying out the syllables. "My name is Kathryn Janeway." She had been the captain of a starship called Voyager with a crew of one hundred fifty people. She'd been an admiral in Starfleet, commanding dozens of ships, thousands of officers.  
  
Tears welled up in her eyes. She'd lost so much. Would she ever get it back? She clutched her pillow to her and cried in despair. Only time will tell, she chided herself. Be patient.  
  
But the tears flowed anyway.

* * *

Once they were back on the ship, Chakotay confronted Tom. "Do you think there's any way to restore her memory? She seems fragile, somehow, more vulnerable than I've ever seen her."  
  
"I know what you mean. I'm no doctor, but I hope they can help her. I'm not sure why her memory is so spotty or even whether the neural stimulator will help. I think we should take her back to the Republic for a complete workup. The doctors there can look her over. Maybe we can contact the EMH about her condition before we start the treatments."  
  
Chakotay nodded. "As much as I want to work quickly, I think you're right. But, she wants desperately to be herself again. Do you think she'll trust us enough to wait?"  
  
"Untraah trusts us, and she trusts him. He can come with us, if he wants. B'Elanna's had some good luck lately contacting the Federation. Maybe we can even have the doctor's program sent to us."  
  
"I'm not so sure about that, Tom. Imagine what the pirates would do with his program if they could get their hands on it."  
  
"Yeah. His program could be damaged in the transmission, too."  
  
"I think it's a good idea for the doctors in the Republic to look at her before we decide what to do. They've had a lot of experience dealing with humans since the Maquis arrived."  
  
"And, it wouldn't hurt to have them talk to the doc, either."  
  
"Tomorrow, we'll discuss all this with Untraah and Kathryn. Ultimately, it's her decision."  
  
"Okay. I'll check our orbit and take the first watch, Chakotay. You get some rest."  
  
"Thanks, Tom." Chakotay was deep in thought as he walked to the sleep alcove and prepared for bed. It had been an eventful day. He was greatly relieved to see that Kathryn was alive and well, but he worried about whether or not she could fully recover her memory. Nearly a year had passed since her injury, yet she remembered only fragments of her previous life, and he felt certain that the longer her condition went untreated, the harder it would be to find a cure.  
  
He found himself unable to stop thinking about her. He stared at the ceiling of the alcove, going over her every movement and comment during their hours together. He remembered the feel of her body next to his when she'd walked up behind him and subdued him in her quarters, the warmth of her small hand in his as he healed her injury, the electricity he'd felt when she'd almost kissed him, the affection in her eyes as he left. The woman he'd met today looked and sounded like Kathryn, yet she was completely different.  
  
This woman was truly Kathryn Janeway and not the captain, or the admiral, or even a Starfleet officer. She reminded him of the woman he'd known on Quarra. She'd been stripped of every layer that she had taken on in her career, leaving behind the flawed, sincere, brilliant human being that he'd always longed to see. And, much to his delight, the attraction between them had survived her transformation. He could see in her eyes that she was curious about her reaction to him, a reaction that they'd both learned to repress and even deny during their days on Voyager.  
  
But he also knew that she was beginning to realize how much of herself she had lost. He had seen the look of panic in her eyes as he and Tom had talked about Voyager and Earth and the Federation, a look of alarm and dismay. How would she react if she were unable to restore her memory and reclaim her Starfleet career?  
  
Sighing with resignation, he told himself that they would deal with those complications when and if they happened. He closed his eyes and went through his meditation drill, slowly relaxing into sleep.

* * *

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Kathryn looked particularly unsure of herself as she walked Untraah to the transport site. They had decided that he should return to his family and let Kathryn's former crew pursue her treatment, but now that the time had come for him to leave, she was feeling a little unsure of herself.  
  
"If I had any reservations about the Maquis, Janeway, I would not think of leaving you. But, you can trust them implicitly. They will take good care of you."  
  
They stopped outside the station, and tears formed in Kathryn's eyes. "I owe my life to you, Untraah. I can never repay you for all you've done."  
  
He gave her a hug and then looked her squarely in the eye. "The Maquis saved my life first, Janeway, and with you I simply returned the favor. When you have the chance in the future to help someone else, do it and think of me."  
  
"You're such a good person."  
  
"As are you, Janeway." He looked past her and smiled. "I told you these Maquis would look out for you. Here is Chakotay coming to say goodbye and to reassure you of your security. He's a good leader. You can trust him most of all."  
  
She turned and caught her breath at the sight of the tall man walking toward her. Tall and dark, with his tantalizing dimples and mysterious tattoo, he seemed as beautiful to her physically as he did personally. Each time she saw him she wondered about her reaction to him, about their past relationship. "I already trust him, Untraah."  
  
Untraah nodded. "There is a saying among my people that a ship's crew reflects its leader. Chakotay is an honorable man. He tries always to do the right thing. Turn to him, Janeway, as you would to me for guidance, for assistance, for support."  
  
Chakotay arrived, giving Kathryn a dimpled smile. "I thought you might like some company once Untraah leaves."  
  
"I appreciate that," she replied, surprised at the relief she felt to see him. "I'm finding that change is difficult to handle."  
  
Untraah shook Chakotay's hand and gave Kathryn a last hug. "I'll be in contact, Janeway, now that I know where you and the Maquis live. I hope to hear good news about you."  
  
She hugged him tightly, suddenly afraid to have this man who had been her savior leave her with these strangers. "I'm afraid, Untraah."  
  
"Don't be," he whispered. "No matter what happens, you can count on these Maquis to do the right thing."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"I'm sure." He took her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Janeway. I know you'll survive and learn to be happy."  
  
She nodded, tears threatening. "Tell your wife and family that l'll miss them. And thank you again for all that you've done for me."  
  
"It was my pleasure to help you. I won't say goodbye, because I plan to see you again."  
  
"Take care until then."  
  
Untraah walked up the stairs to the station, pausing at the door to wave goodbye before he disappeared into the building. Chakotay watched Kathryn out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge her reaction to Untraah's departure. He had watched the two embrace for a long time and converse quietly in a way that made him worry about her mental state. At long last, she turned to him with a sigh. "Can we beam out from here?"  
  
"Certainly." He tapped his commbadge. "Tom, we're ready to beam up."  
  
A few hours later, after the shuttle had left orbit and begun the trip back to the Republic, Chakotay found himself wishing for better accommodations or at least a modicum of privacy in the small ship. He and Tom sat stoically at the helm listening to Kathryn as she paced in the aft section or huddled against the back wall in a vain attempt to hide her distress. He tried to imagine how she felt, trusting her safety and well-being to people whom she regarded as complete strangers.  
  
Tom leaned toward him. "What's she upset about?"  
  
"I don't think it's anything in particular, Tom. I think it's just the whole situation—she feels helpless and vulnerable. And who wouldn't? She remembers very little about her past life, and she feels like she's trusting strangers. I'm amazed that she's doing as well as she is."  
  
"Strangers? Us? You've got to be kidding." He glanced over his shoulder at the familiar figure in the back of the ship. "How can we be strangers when she's the same person I remember her as being?"  
  
"She has only fragmented memories of us, or Voyager, or Starfleet. All she knows is what she sees, what we tell her, and what Untraah has told her. She needs time to learn to learn that she can trust us. You'll see." He stiffened when he realized that she'd finally joined them on the flight deck, kneeling between the seats. He wondered if she'd overheard them.  
  
"Gentlemen," she said, sounding so much like their former captain that the two men nearly came to attention. "I know you're concerned about my emotional well-being, but I assure you I'm fine. It's just that with my damaged memory, I find change unsettling, and I'm going to miss the security Untraah and his family gave me." She paused, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked into the distance. "And I'm afraid I'll never remember enough about my past to be of help to you on the colony."  
  
"You remember enough from your scientific and technical background to be a help anywhere, Kathryn," Tom said, wanting to comfort her. "And as for needing the security of a family, you're already a part of ours. We won't let you down."  
  
"I am very thankful for that, Tom." She put her hands on each man's shoulder as she stood up and straightened her shoulders with typical Janeway resolve. "Now, isn't there something constructive I can be doing around here?"  
  
To be continued . . . 


	4. Chapter 4

"Here There Be Dragons" Part 4 (See part one for disclaimers)  
  
by Mizvoy  
  
Kathryn walked into the stuffy and very dusty cabin and looked around. "Seems familiar, somehow."  
  
"Probably because you've seen one of these structures before. It's a standard Starfleet emergency cabin." Chakotay activated the overhead panel, allowing the early morning sun to shine though the skylight and illuminate the small room. Natural light would have to suffice until power to the small building could be restored later in the day. "I lived here for a year when we first arrived, moving out after I built my log cabin at the top of the hill. It's small, but cozy. And if you need anything, I'm close by."  
  
He watched as she walked through the empty rooms, peering into cabinets and closets, dragging her finger through the dust on the counters. In the weeks since they'd found her, the two of them had spent almost every waking moment together, parted only while she underwent extensive testing at the medical facility in the capital city of Newland and, of course, at night. They had slipped into the close, intimate friendship of their Voyager days without so much as a moment's delay, and Chakotay had been reminded, once again, of how much he'd missed her.  
  
"This would be the galley and living area," she said, stopping in the doorway at the back of the room. "And through here a little study, a bedroom, and a bath." She looked at him in confusion, a memory tugging at the back of her mind. "Not two bedrooms?"  
  
"The study can be another bedroom if needed. That's the way we had it when Voyager had to leave us behind on New Earth."  
  
"New Earth," she whispered, nodding her head, the memory faint. "I had a bathtub there, but not in the cabin--outside."  
  
"That's right. But this area is too rustic for an outdoor bath. There are some nocturnal animals you'd rather not tangle with; in fact, there are times during the year when it's better not to be out after dark at all." He looked around the cabin speculatively. "I can take some room from the study and put a tub in the bath if you'd like."  
  
"I would like that, when you find the time. While I stayed with Untraah, there was barely enough water to drink, much less for a bath. I had to settle for sponge baths and sonic showers."  
  
"There's enough water on this planet for several baths a day, if you want." He looked around the empty cabin in despair. It was tiny and filthy. "Are you sure you're up to this? I didn't realize how dirty the cabin was when I offered it to you."  
  
"It's perfect--really." She looked through the skylight at the strengthening sun. "I'm ready for a place of my own. If you could help me straighten up, I might even be able to stay here tonight."  
  
"That's why I'm here," he assured her. "I'm at your beck and call for the rest of the day."  
  
Four hours later, after they'd cleaned up the cabin, stocked it with furniture, and stored her meager supply of food and clothing, they retreated to Chakotay's larger house for a light lunch. By mid-afternoon they'd stretched out on a couple of lounge chairs on his screened porch, enjoying the shade and cool breeze on a hot summer's afternoon by talking a little, sipping iced tea, and taking short naps.  
  
Kathryn couldn't remember when she'd felt more relaxed and peaceful, and the feeling made her even more curious about their mutual past. Chakotay seemed reluctant to discuss their relationship, and she had gone along for that at first. But her curiosity finally got the best of her, and she decided to start asking for a little clarification.  
  
She rolled over on her side to face her friend. "We work together well, Chakotay. Has that always been the case?"  
  
"Pretty much," he replied, opening his eyes slightly and smiling at her. "I think we wanted to trust each other from the first, but it took awhile to get the working relationship right."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He opened his eyes all the way and regarded her coolly. From her perspective, it must seem like a simple question, yet he was not anxious to delve into the particulars of their complex friendship. "Because I was a criminal you were sent to arrest, for one thing. Because I'd resigned my Starfleet commission and had taken up arms against the Federation, and you assumed I was capable of doing it again if I so desired. Because you wanted to be sure that you were unquestionably the captain--that I wasn't going to try to undermine your authority and take over the ship."  
  
Her face grew thoughtful as she considered his explanation. Then, with a shake of her head, she said, "While those reasons all make sense, they can't be the biggest obstacle we had to overcome."  
  
"You say that, but you don't really know."  
  
"No, I don't really know about Voyager. I just know that the problem between us wasn't as simple or as logical as anything you just mentioned." She smiled at his incredulous look, a sly twinkle in her eye. "We were how many light years from home? Seventy thousand? The issues dividing us no longer mattered because we needed each other. While you might have been a criminal in the Federation, you'd also been a Starfleet officer for twenty years. You knew that our best bet was to join forces, which meant that trusting each other was the only way to survive. We both would've known that was true. And I already had the ship and the majority of the crew on my side--I was the captain."  
  
"Okay, smarty," he teased, his dimples on full display. "So what was the problem then?"  
  
"The biggest problem was the incredible attraction we felt toward each other."  
  
His smile faded as his lunch turned to lead in his stomach. The Kathryn he'd known would never have addressed this issue so directly, and he was surprised by her candor. "Our . . . attraction?"  
  
"I'm sorry." She sat up, suddenly embarrassed at her brazen honesty. It was possible that he didn't reciprocate the feelings she felt for him, that she alone sensed the invisible connection between them. Perhaps that was why he had left her behind in the Federation, why they hadn't been together. "I shouldn't have said that. I've made you uncomfortable."  
  
He sat up, too, and faced her. "No, I'm glad you brought it up. It's just that the subject of our feelings for each other was always something we . . . repressed."  
  
"Because of our professional relationship." She smiled a little, relieved to hear him admit that the attraction had been mutual. "Because I was the captain and you were the first officer. Right?"  
  
"Because of that and because I think we both knew our feelings might get in the way at the worst possible moments. Even though we remained only friends, there were many times when we argued bitterly about what course to follow. I'm not sure a more committed relationship would've survived the pressure we were under. And, anyway, we needed each other to be captain and first officer more than anything else."  
  
"But those personal feelings were always there? I'm not imagining it?"  
  
He could feel a blush crawl up his neck. "They were there for me. I was never really sure if they were there for you."  
  
"They were there for me, too."  
  
He took her hands in his. "I'm flattered to hear you say that, but you don't remember what happened then. You can't remember how you felt, not really."  
  
"Maybe I can't remember how I felt then. I just know that the way I feel now seems natural and right. I can't imagine not feeling this way about you." She gave him a shy grin. "You've said yourself that I'm not that different from the woman you knew then. If so, the captain had to feel for you what I feel now."  
  
He stared at her, studying her face. "How do you feel about me now?"  
  
"I find you extremely attractive," she admitted, giving him a crooked smile. "And I feel close to you in a way that I know is special."  
  
As much as he'd wanted to hear these words from his former captain, Chakotay was skeptical and afraid of being hurt. "I feel the same way toward you, Kathryn. But . . . ."  
  
"But what?"  
  
He dropped her hands and stood up, turning his back to her as he looked down the hill at the tiny cabin. "I keep thinking that once you remember who you really are, once you're Admiral Janeway again, you'll pull away from me as you always have before. I couldn't bear that. It would destroy me."  
  
Frustrated, Kathryn joined him at the railing. Judging by his hurt feelings, there must have been some other, painful reasons for their separation. "I understand. You hesitate because your memories of our past relationship cause you pain, and you're afraid I'll hurt you again. But I don't have those memories. All I know is what I feel right now." She took his arm and leaned against him. "I just wanted to share that with you."  
  
"And for that, Kathryn, I'm grateful. In all our years together, you were never so open and honest with me."  
  
"I'm sorry for that. I'm sure I thought I had a reason for behaving as I did." She looked up at him, her face full of hope. "Do you think you'll ever be able to put those memories behind you?"  
  
He smiled, put an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. "Let's take this one day at a time, okay? And once we've done whatever we can to help you regain your memories, we'll decide how to proceed."  
  
She nodded and burrowed into his side, trusting that he would know best what to do. "I can't imagine having a better friend than you, Chakotay."  
  
"You're my best friend, too."  
  
She sighed, soaking up the warmth of his embrace. She wanted to ask why they hadn't turned to each other when the ship returned to the Federation, but she was simply afraid the subject might damage the intimacy they had established at the moment. In time, she told herself, she'd understand everything. She would just have to be patient and wait for the right moment.

* * *

B'Elanna was sitting in the cabin's tiny galley rocking her newborn son to sleep when Chakotay peeked in the door. "Is this a good time?"  
  
"If you're asking whether I'm finished nursing, the answer is yes." B'Elanna smiled as she watched her good friend step into the cabin and sit down at the galley's table. "I didn't know you were so shy, Chakotay."  
  
"My mom nursed all my little brothers and sisters, but I was too busy and too young to notice the details," he said, blushing slightly. He nodded toward the sleep chamber. "Has Kathryn had any more nightmares?"  
  
"Not in a couple of days." B'Elanna glanced toward the room and lowered her voice. "That's both good and bad, actually. The nightmares almost always signal a newly restored memory. I'm afraid the process is slowing down."  
  
A few days earlier, just three weeks after they'd arrived at the colony, Kathryn had begun a series of procedures which had been designed by the local doctors to repair her memory. The procedure had been only partially successful and had brought about terrifying nightmares as her memory returned in starts and stops. It had not been the resounding success they'd been hoping for, and even worse, the chances for complete memory restoration faded with each passing day.  
  
"I bet she's depressed. I should've stuck around."  
  
B'Elanna shifted the baby to her shoulder and grinned when she heard a small burp. "She knew you had to check on the new sensor array, Chakotay. After all, she helped you finish its design."  
  
He nodded, remembering their hours together fondly. She'd spent most of the trip back from Luxtor studying their technology and getting herself up to speed on the Republic's engineering systems so she could really contribute to the colony once they'd arrived. While the doctors had worked on the medical procedure to restore her memory, she'd thrown herself into her work, designing several of the improvements that Chakotay had just implemented to their sensor array, and she had proposed some improvements to their power system that B'Elanna was studying, as well.  
  
"You and Joey can go on home," he said, relaxing in the chair, trying not to let himself feel disheartened about Kathryn's condition. "I'll stick around until she wakes up."  
  
"Are you sure? You just got back and must be tired." She glanced out the window at the moonlight. "The second moon is rising. It must be three o'clock in the morning."  
  
"I slept on the shuttle." At her skeptical look, he just laughed. "Ask Tom, if you're accusing me of lying. Besides, he wants to see you and the baby."  
  
"Well, okay. But call me if you need me."  
  
"Sure. You and Joey need some sleep, too." After B'Elanna and the baby left, Chakotay walked to the door of the tiny bedroom and peered in. The room was flooded with creamy moonlight revealing Kathryn sprawled on her back, one arm thrown over her head as she snored softly. He smiled, remembering the comfort of those gentle sounds from years earlier on New Earth. He was about to creep back into the galley when she suddenly grew quiet.  
  
"Chakotay?" She sat up in bed and pushed her long hair back from her face with both hands. "Is that you?"  
  
"It's me. I sent B'Elanna and Joey home."  
  
She patted the bed, and he sat down beside her. "I've wanted to talk to you."  
  
He shifted to face her. "About what?"  
  
"The procedure didn't work, Chakotay, and it isn't going to work." He could see the disappointment in her face, the way she fought back tears of disappointment. "I think I need to accept the facts and make some decisions about my future."  
  
"You don't need to hurry about making decisions." He tried not to panic. He didn't want to think about her leaving the Republic for the Federation, even though it was probably the thing she needed to do if she hoped to recover.  
  
She put a hand on his arm. "Tom said you were willing to take me back across non-aligned space to the Federation. It's a generous offer, especially in light of the dangers you'd face making a round trip."  
  
"Some of us probably need to go back for a visit. It's been years since we left."  
  
"Then go for yourselves, not for me." She took a deep breath and looked him squarely in the eye. "I'm staying here, if the Republic will have me."  
  
Chakotay didn't even try to hide his surprise. "Are you sure? The doctors think that seeing familiar people and places might help restore your memory, and I'm more than willing to do whatever it takes to help you."  
  
"I know you are, and I . . ." she paused, nearly in tears, her hand gripping his arm. "I'm so grateful for your generosity and your friendship." She got out of bed and walked to the window where she watched the second moon slowly clear the trees. "I don't want to go back."  
  
He couldn't believe his ears. Could this be the same woman who had put her life and happiness aside for seven long years just so she could see an Indiana sunrise again? "Are you sure?"  
  
She turned and faced him. "As far as they're concerned, I've been dead for five years. And the person they knew is dead, because I'm not the same Admiral Kathryn Janeway who disappeared five years ago. I couldn't resume the life I had there even if I wanted to. If I have to start a new life, this is as good a place as any."  
  
"What about your family?"  
  
"My mother is dead, Chakotay, you know that. And Phoebe's life revolves around her husband and children, as it should. I don't want to be the old maid aunt who doesn't remember who she is. Poor pitiful Aunt Kathryn."  
  
"They wouldn't think that about you." He watched as she reached up and brushed tears from her cheeks with the back of her hands, trying to remember if he'd ever seen her cry on Voyager.  
  
"I'm not the person they think I am. I'm just a fraction of what I used to be."  
  
"The best part," he assured her. "The real you."  
  
"I'm glad you think so."  
  
"If you want to stay, Kathryn, we'd love to have you. You've retained your scientific knowledge and your leadership skills, and you've been a big help so far."  
  
"I'm glad." She swallowed, blinking back more tears. "I feel at home here, in this cabin. Could I just continue to live here?"  
  
"I don't know why not. I like having you as a neighbor again." She sagged against the wall in relief. "But I don't want you to give up yet, Kathryn. I think you should go through the copy of Voyager's logs we brought with us. The doctor thinks they might help jog your memory. Those were intense years in your life, years that might just restore some of what you've lost."  
  
"All right, it's a deal. I get to stay here and continue working with you or B'Elanna as long as I review the logs." She crossed the room and sat back down beside him on the bed, suddenly exhausted. "I'm sorry to poop out on you, but I'm worn out. I haven't slept well since they did the procedure."  
  
Chakotay pulled back the covers. "Get some sleep. I'll be on the sofa in the other room. If you need me, call me."  
  
"Why the sofa?" she asked, patting the bed beside her. "It's so short you can't even stretch out on it. There's room for you here."  
  
"Kathryn, I . . . I don't want to take advantage of this situation. You aren't yourself."  
  
"You keep saying that, but I only know what I feel." She slipped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. "If it weren't for you, I'd be completely alone. And I've felt a special bond with you since I first saw you."  
  
Chakotay swallowed, feeling the hammering of his heart in his chest. He was beginning to believe that she really, truly loved him, but he wasn't convinced that he should follow through on the intimacy she offered until her memory was restored.  
  
He sensed, though, that this wasn't the time, that if and when they acted on their mutual attraction, they would both have to be themselves. He gave her a one-armed hug and stood up. "I slept the whole way back from the array because Tom wanted to push the speed envelope and get home to his family. You need your sleep, and I'm afraid I'd be a distraction. I'll just be in the next room."  
  
"You're too kind." Tears glistened in her eyes. "Everyone has been too kind. I don't deserve all you've done for me."  
  
"Oh, yes, you do, Kathryn," he chuckled as he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You just don't remember why."

* * *

The days in the Republic settled into a comforting routine. Although Kathryn's formal training had been in astrophysics, she found herself caught up in the technological challenges faced by the colony's engineers and soon became a valued sounding board for B'Elanna and her subordinates. She and B'Elanna were happy to remain on the planet while Tom and Chakotay traveled through the Republic maintaining the security grid and keeping the militia properly trained. Their friendship quickly deepened and the Paris children came to see Kathryn as a surrogate grandmother, much to her joy.  
  
In the evenings, she returned to her tiny cabin and focused her time on the copies of Voyager's logs, the news reports surrounding their disappearance and return, and the official reports that the Maquis had brought with them when they left Federation space. She was gradually learning the names and personalities of the absent members of the crew and coming to better understand the ones she had come to know in the Republic. And there were some nights when huge chunks of her memory would suddenly resurface, often accompanied by terrifying memories and always with a feeling of a heavy, relentless responsibility.  
  
Perhaps the most problematic memory concerned Seven of Nine, the Borg drone they had rescued from nearly two decades of assimilation. The Maquis had talked about the woman, of course, and had explained her unusual name as a Borg designation, but Kathryn had never really grasped the significance of the woman's presence on the ship. She had decided to review the logs in chronological order, which meant that she'd been in the Republic a couple of months before she discovered how and why she had brought a Borg drone onto the ship.  
  
Reading about her brief liaison with the Borg and their near destruction by species 8472 had triggered a whole series of memories surrounding Seven of Nine, many of them very troubling. There had been arguments, confrontations, dangerous rescues, and betrayals between herself and Seven and between herself and her first officer. She was haunted by the memories and found it impossible to sleep unless she was physically exhausted or took a sleep aid. She began to stay up late, rereading the logs and contemplating what had happened.  
  
Chakotay returned in the wee hours of the morning after a week-long series of drills only to see the lights still on in Kathryn's cabin. He decided to stop by and say hello before he went to his own house for some much needed sleep. Although she was up long hours on Voyager, she'd made it a habit to go to bed earlier and sleep longer since they'd rescued her, and he wanted to make sure that these late hours didn't mean that she was troubled by something.  
  
"Chakotay!" she said as she ushered him into her tiny living room. "What a nice surprise!"  
  
"I know it's late, but I saw that your light was on and decided that I should let you know I'm back in case you see someone walking around in my house and think I'm being burglarized." He sat down and looked around, noticing that it was 0200 and she was still in her work clothes. "Are you working late or getting up early?"  
  
She smiled and shook her head, wondering if she should just admit the troublesome memories and talk to him about them or just let them ride. "Just reading these Voyager logs."  
  
He reached over and picked up the PADD she'd tossed aside when he'd arrived. "Species 8472?" He looked up at her, studying her face. "A troubled time."  
  
"Very much so. You and I disagreed pretty vehemently."  
  
"We found common ground."  
  
"And we found Seven of Nine." She sat down by him and slumped into the cushions, her eyes suddenly very troubled. "I remember that."  
  
"You mean some of your memories have been restored?"  
  
"I'll say. All at once, like a huge data dump, all the controversy, all the struggles surrounding Seven and our repeated run-ins with the Borg hit me." She closed her eyes. "I remember the sound and smells of the cube. The odd reflection of light in the queen's eyes. The unrelenting fear of losing the ship. The feeling of assimilation tubules entering my neck. Seven of Nine's incredibly difficult struggle to return to the human race."  
  
"All of it then," he said, his voice a whisper.  
  
"Seven is the reason we aren't together." She was looking at him now, challenging him. "Whether she meant to do it or not, she gradually came between us. At first, you didn't want her on the ship at all, but I insisted. You balked at working with her, but I ordered you to do so. For years, you left her discipline and training to me. And then, just before we returned to the Alpha Quadrant, you . . . and she . . . well, you know what happened."  
  
"Nothing happened, Kathryn. I tried to tell you that, but you weren't interested in hearing my explanations." He buried his face in his hands. "The admiral had told you Seven and I were seriously involved, and you took that as gospel. Even after it was clear that Seven and I were not dating, you kept your distance. You made it clear to me that a relationship with you would never happen. What could I do? Stay there and continue to be rejected by you? I decided to give up and start a new life out here."  
  
"And then I fall into your lap again, just when you were beginning to put your life together. No wonder you hesitate to . . . trust me. I'm an unnecessary complication in your life once again."  
  
"It's not like that. I'm delighted to see you and be with you again, under any parameters. I thought you were dead and gone forever, Kathryn. When I heard about your shuttle disappearing without a trace, I grieved for a long, long time." Tears filled his eyes and he shook his head. "As unreasonable as it sounds, I never really gave up on us until then."  
  
"Chakotay." She put her arm around him. "I don't know why I acted as I did. I don't remember most of it, and I'm not sure I want to remember." She hesitated, her eyes widening with surprise. "You're afraid I'll reject you again if my memories are ever restored, aren't you?"  
  
He nodded, miserable. "I don't think I could survive another loss like that, Kathryn. Having you here like this, having our friendship back, is more than I could have ever dreamed of happening. But to take this further and then have you withdraw . . . ."  
  
She rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm never getting those memories back, Chakotay. And if I do, I promise you I'll never leave you."  
  
"You can't know that."  
  
She turned him so that he looked her in the eye. "What kind of promise can we make to anyone else about the future? I love you. I think I always loved you. Right now, I want to kiss you and make love to you and wake up in the morning in your arms and do it all over again. That's all anyone can promise. One day at a time."  
  
"You love me?"  
  
"More than life itself."  
  
He pulled her into an embrace, burying his face in her hair. "Thank God. I love you, too."  
  
She stood up and held out her hand. "Come to bed with me. I want to show you how much I love you."  
  
To be continued . . . 


	5. Chapter 5

"Here There Be Dragons" Part 5 (See part one for disclaimers)  
  
by Mizvoy  
  
One year later  
  
Kathryn Janeway awakened to the familiar thrum of a warp engine. She rolled over in bed, lifting her head just enough to spy the time on the chronometer and realize that she had another thirty minutes before it would be time to get up and prepare for her shift in engineering. She did a few exercises in bed, groaning with satisfaction as her muscles stretched and her body slowly awakened. She was enjoying being a simple member of the crew and leaving the bigger headaches to the captain--in this case, Chakotay.  
  
Not that the Republic's small cruiser was the equivalent of any Starfleet vessel she remembered commanding. Twelve crewmembers shared the duties of maintaining XY247, as they called the ship, rotating by threes in six hour shifts on and off duty. Most of the time, she and Chakotay shared a rotation, but a problem with the sensor array had necessitated a significant extension to her last shift. It would take a day or two to get their workdays back to normal. In the meantime, she would have to adjust to sleeping alone.  
  
In the year since they'd decided to pursue a relationship, Kathryn and Chakotay had done everything possible to avoid being apart. She had given up her work on their home world in order to travel with him when he did his security and defensive tours, and she'd found a great deal of satisfaction in using her military experience once again. He had delegated some of the more remote assignments to others in order to stay closer to home and spend time with her.  
  
She grew closer to Chakotay with each passing day and could no longer imagine a day without him as an intimate part of her life. Her spotty memory was quickly becoming a trivial inconvenience as she became satisfied with her new life and fully integrated into the Republic. Happiness had a way of making her complacent and comfortable. Her need to reclaim her memories or to return to the Federation had faded in the sheer joy of living and working with the man she loved.  
  
She knew, though, that he still worried that she might change her mind when and if her memory returned. In fact, her recollections did return in starts and stops, usually while she slept, and often as a vivid nightmare. Chakotay always held her as she recovered from the trauma of those dreams, listening as she talked and helping her make sense of what she'd experienced, often filling in the gaps that were always missing.  
  
While he assured her of his faith in her, she occasionally caught him looking at her with something close to fear in his eyes, and try as she might, she had yet to convince him that she had no plans to go anywhere without him, no matter what she remembered.  
  
The comm unit buzzed, and she crawled reluctantly out of the warm bed, pulling on a robe as she settled in the desk chair and activated the screen. She smiled when Chakotay's face appeared. "Are you afraid I'd oversleep?" she teased, resting her chin on her hand. "Worried that you might have to work some extra hours waiting for me to show up?"  
  
He chuckled and shook his head. "Actually, Tom feels bad about damaging the sensors with his antics yesterday and arrived early to give us some time together before you come on duty."  
  
She scowled, "I'm fine, Chakotay." Kathryn suspected that what they really wanted to do was check on her condition before she went to work. She had given them a scare the day before. She'd been working on the sensor array when she had been badly shocked by a power surge in an engineering console. She could still see the look of panic in Chakotay's eyes as she regained consciousness in the tiny sickbay, the emergency signals blaring on the biobed panel behind her. Even hours later, he'd been reluctant to be away from her while he worked his shift, leaving only when she'd threatened to move into quarters of her own. "I slept like a baby last night. I feel like a new woman."  
  
He leaned toward the screen, a grin on his face. "You slept like a snoring baby last night."  
  
She could feel herself blushing, but knew better than to disagree. "You've been on duty ever since I went to bed. How would you know that I was snoring?"  
  
"I came down and checked on you a couple of times," he admitted, giving her a wary look. Although she resented the way he was overprotective of her, she reminded herself that she had, in his mind, literally risen from the dead just over a year earlier. Why wouldn't he be upset to think he might lose her again? "I can't help worrying about you, Kathryn."  
  
She sighed, giving him an affectionate smile. "I understand. So are you on your way down? Should I replicate some breakfast for us or do I have time for a shower first?"  
  
He peered past her at the unmade bed, a twinkle in his eye. "You haven't dressed yet?"  
  
"Not yet," she drawled, giving him a wink as she drew the robe tighter around her. "I was still in bed when you called."  
  
His eyes darkened with desire. "Don't move an inch. I'm on my way down."  
  
Kathryn just smiled and crawled back into bed.

* * *

Two weeks later, Kathryn was back in her office in Newland, the capital city of the Republic. Chakotay was late for their lunch date, and she was hesitant to start any new work for fear of being interrupted. She got up from her desk and walked to the window of her office so she could look down the sidewalk toward the operations center. Spring had finally arrived in full force, bringing with it the fragrance of flowers and the nearly irresistible urge to sneak out of the office for a long walk along the river. In fact, they had decided to take some time off and spend a few precious hours eating their lunches and soaking up the sunshine on a park bench in the quadrangle, and Kathryn was anxious to get outside.  
  
She was still staring at the beautiful blue sky when she saw Chakotay leave ops and start across the quadrangle toward her office. She knew at once that something serious had happened by the tension in his body and the way he stared at the sidewalk in front of him as he walked. She wondered if it concerned the three ships that had been detected leaving non-aligned space the previous day. Tom had been piloting the closest ship available to intercept them, and the time would be about right for him to report back with information. She always worried that such missions would bring their people under attack from some of the pirates that thrived in the no-man's- land off of the Republic's frontier.  
  
Anxious to hear what had happened, Kathryn left her office in a rush, pausing briefly to inform the secretary about where she was going, and then hurried down the staircase to meet Chakotay. He was so intent on his thoughts that he very nearly ran into her just outside her building.  
  
"Chakotay!" she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the midday foot traffic. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Kathryn!" He threw his arms around her and gave her a brief hug before he shifted her in his arms and propelled her toward the quadrangle. "We have to talk."  
  
"Is it Tom? Did he get into trouble? Is he all right?"  
  
"He's fine. The ships weren't a threat to us at all. I'll explain in a minute." Much to her frustration, Chakotay refused to offer any more information until they'd sat down on a bench beside a secluded walkway and he'd taken her hands in his. "The ships Tom met were from the Federation."  
  
"The Federation?" For a moment, the words didn't compute, but then she realized what he'd said. "You mean Starfleet vessels?"  
  
He nodded. "Three Starfleet vessels with Tuvok in command."  
  
"Tuvok?" She blushed, knowing she sounded like a blithering idiot as she repeated his words once again. "Tuvok brought three ships across non- aligned space? But why?"  
  
"Kathryn, I've tried to explain how important you are to the Federation." He smiled at her, but his eyes were troubled. "You're one of the most decorated Starfleet officers in history, and, believe me, you should be proud of that. Why wouldn't they send ships to rescue you after your terrible accident?"  
  
"Rescue me! But, Chakotay, I don't need to be rescued. I don't want to be rescued. Don't they understand that I'm not the Admiral Janeway they think I am?"  
  
"Tom says that Seven of Nine and Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram have come with Tuvok. The doctor has devised a treatment that he believes will completely restore your memory." He looked away, unable to face her as he told her the rest of his news. "You're supposed to take command of the fleet as soon as possible for their return trip home."  
  
"Return trip home?" She pulled her hands from his and stood up, suddenly feeling sick with worry. The perfect spring day had been ruined by the dilemma facing her. How could she return to the Federation and leave Chakotay behind? Yet, how could she turn her back on the Federation people who cared for her enough to risk their lives crossing non-aligned space? "I . . . don't know what to say."  
  
"Don't say anything. Listen to what they're proposing and then make up your mind."  
  
She turned to face him, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I love you, Chakotay. Nothing is going to change that."  
  
"I know." He stood up and took her into his arms. "We'll work this out."  
  
"When will they be here?"  
  
"Sometime tomorrow morning."  
  
She nodded, feeling as if she'd been given a death sentence. "My memories of Seven and Tuvok are quite vivid, as you know. But the EMH is vague at best."  
  
Chakotay laughed. "Well, please don't tell him that. His ego couldn't take it."  
  
She sighed. "Why is it that I think you're teasing me?"  
  
"Let's just say that in many ways, the doctor is unforgettable. At least in his own mind, he is." When Kathryn didn't laugh at his joke, Chakotay realized just how upset she really was and grew more serious. "Try not to worry," he said, rubbing her back to soothe her. "Nothing bad will happen. I won't let it."  
  
"I'm holding you to that," she whispered.

* * *

B'Elanna switched on the comm unit and laughed at Chakotay's unshaven face and sleep-tousled hair. He had obviously overslept and looked more than a little upset about it. "Do you know what time it is?" she teased, barely controlling her laughter. "You're supposed to be at the reception in less than an hour!"  
  
"Have you seen Kathryn?" he demanded.  
  
B'Elanna's smile faded. "Isn't she at home with you?"  
  
"I got home after midnight last night and then fell asleep on the sofa. When I woke up a few minutes ago, I discovered that she wasn't here! She didn't sleep here last night, and I thought maybe you knew where she was."  
  
B'Elanna shook her head, her eyes troubled. "I haven't seen her in a couple of days."  
  
"Well, if you see her or hear from her, please have her call me."  
  
"Do you think she's okay? I mean, the arrival of these ships is sure to have upset her."  
  
"I know. I was so busy yesterday that I just forgot to keep track of her."  
  
"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."  
  
"You could take my place at the reception, just in case I can't make it on time. Tell them I had a family emergency. Tell Tuvok I'll be in touch with him later."  
  
"Sure, I can do that. Do you think the prime minister will mind?"  
  
"As far as he's concerned, B'Elanna, you can do no wrong."  
  
"Only because I redesigned his air conditioning system so it works," she laughed. "Let me know about Kathryn?"  
  
"Yeah, I will. And thanks."  
  
Chakotay switched off the unit and sat back in the chair with a groan. He should never have left Kathryn alone after telling her of Tuvok's arrival. He could still remember the tension and panic on her face as he'd left her in the quadrangle the day before, but they had always let duty get in the way of their personal relationship, and he'd followed that practice once again. It was a bad habit that had just come to an end, he promised himself.  
  
The news of the three ships from the Federation had spread like wildfire through the Republic's population. Less than ten minutes after he had broken the news to Kathryn, Chakotay had been summoned to the offices of the ruling council to assist in the formal reception of the "diplomatic envoy" from his former home region. Even though he knew that Tuvok's arrival had left Kathryn feeling threatened and insecure, he felt he'd had no choice but to assist with the planning. And Kathryn had let him go without a word of complaint.  
  
He'd left her in the quadrangle with a promise to return as soon as possible, but now he realized that he should have had B'Elanna or Mike Ayala take over so that he could be with her as she adjusted to this new development in their lives. But, then, to be honest, he'd escaped into his work because he didn't want to face the possibility that she would leave him.  
  
He had tried to contact her at her office and at their house several times in the intervening hours with no success, but he had been caught up in a whirlwind of activity that had left little time for thought. Not only had he been consulted by the government for such issues as food preferences, lodging expectations, and social and cultural customs, he had been busy with the Maquis crew, who were anxious to see their friends in a more informal setting. Besides Tuvok, Harry Kim, and the EMH, there were twelve other former Voyager crew on the ships, including Seven of Nine, Megan Delaney, Icheb, and Samantha and Naomi Wildman.  
  
And then there had been the press. He had given six quick interviews to the news organizations that were covering the issue with characteristic intensity. They were almost as curious about Kathryn, this lost admiral of Starfleet who was living in their midst, as they were about the three alien vessels approaching the home world. He was grateful that his experience with reporters following Voyager's return from the Delta Quadrant had taught him how to handle those potentially explosive questions with humor, grace, and vague answers, but he worried about Kathryn's reaction to her renewed notoriety. He suspected that she wouldn't be happy about it.  
  
It had been after midnight before he'd returned to their dark, quiet cabin on the outskirts of the city. Frazzled and distracted by the pressure of the last twelve hours, Chakotay had replicated a sandwich and had eaten it while watching the latest newsvids on the visitors from the far side of non- aligned space. He had intended to sleep in his own bed, of course, but the warm food and comfortable sofa had lulled him into a deep slumber that had extended well into the following morning. His concern at waking up so late had been replaced by his panic over Kathryn's whereabouts.  
  
He would have to find her soon, or there would be a flurry of questions about the reasons behind her absence. The last thing she needed was to have the general public see how conflicted she was about returning to the Federation. But even worse would be to take her to the reception and have her react emotionally to seeing her friends again with the cameras rolling.  
  
He froze, realizing that Kathryn should meet the Starfleet crews privately, not under the glare of the press and observant eyes of the Republic's diplomatic corps. It would be an emotional moment for everyone involved (with the possible exception of Tuvok), but especially for Kathryn, whose feelings were deep and ambivalent. What had he been thinking?  
  
In the last year, since they had begun living together, the moments of flashback to her former life had decreased, and when they occurred, the memories were almost always of the period before Voyager had been pulled into the Delta Quadrant. Her counselors had told him confidentially that she might be repressing those more troubling memories, that subconsciously she might be unwilling or unable to face the pressure of that period in her life.  
  
"Those sacrifices, while required, are just too excruciating to remember," Jaye C'Ollan, Kathryn's counselor, had explained. "I think that on some level of consciousness, she knows that she simply cannot handle the remorse and the anguish of those difficult years. We have to believe that she is better off this way and let nature take its course. In her own time and when she can face the past, she may remember everything on her own."  
  
On impulse, he sat down at the console and contacted Jaye. "Have you heard from Kathryn?" he demanded as soon as the counselor's face appeared. "Did she call and talk to you?"  
  
"You mean about the arrival of the Starfleet ships?" The woman nodded solemnly. "She called me yesterday afternoon, terribly upset. I told her to try to relax and not panic about what might or might not happen. How is she today?"  
  
"I can't find her. She's not at home. She's not in her office or with our friends. I was hoping she might be with you."  
  
"Oh, dear. This is troubling." She concentrated for a moment, and then said, "Is there a special place where she might go that feels safe to her? Perhaps a favorite hotel or retreat?"  
  
He glanced out the window, noticing for the first time that the latch on the screened porch was unfastened and that the remains of a dinner tray sat on the table beside Kathryn's favorite chair. Through the door, at the bottom of the hill behind the house he spied the roof of the tiny cabin Kathryn had lived in when she'd first come with him to Republic space. Of course, he realized, she would go there. She had been happy there, and they had spent many hours together there at the beginning of their romance.  
  
"I think she might be at her old cabin," he said, checking the time and scowling with frustration. There was no way he'd make it to the reception; he was glad that B'Elanna was covering for him. "I'll keep you posted."  
  
He shut down the commlink and dashed out the door and down the hill. Please be okay, he thought as he ran toward the tiny cabin.

* * *

Chakotay had expected to find the deserted cabin dusty with lack of use, but he found, instead, that it was gleaming with a recent and very thorough cleaning. The floors sparkled with fresh wax. The cabinets and tables glowed with oil. The sink and bath smelled of fresh citrus and flowers. Kathryn must have worked the night through to get the place this spotless.  
  
"Kathryn?" he called, wiping wiped his feet carefully before he stepped on the spotless floor. "Where are you?"  
  
Silence. He walked through the cabin toward the back entrance, noticing that the windows were so clean they were practically invisible. He reached the door and stopped in surprise. Kathryn was on her hands and knees weeding the flower garden along the fence, a garden that hadn't been touched since she'd moved in with him the previous summer.  
  
"Kathryn?" he repeated, stepping out the door. "What are you doing?"  
  
She looked up at him, so dirty that he wondered if all the dust and grime from the cabin had simply been transferred to her body instead of the cleaning rags. "I've let this place go to rack and ruin!" she replied, brushing her hair out of her eyes with the back of her arm. "The weeds have nearly choked out every single flower!" She leaned back down and furiously pulled out the weeds with her bare hands.  
  
Alarm went through his body as he realized that she might have lost contact with reality. He tried to keep the panic out of his voice. "But you don't live here any more, Kathryn," he protested. "Nobody lives here."  
  
She froze, her head drooping between her shoulders. "I need a safe place to go," she whispered. He saw tears dropping onto the mud between her hands. "I need to keep this place ready just in case."  
  
"Just in case of what?" He knelt down beside her, leaning over as he tried to see her face. "You're safe with me, Kathryn."  
  
She shook her head. "I'm not. They always come and take me away."  
  
Chakotay frowned. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Tuvok and the doctor." She looked up at him, brushing away tears with the backs of her hands and leaving smudges of dirt on her face. "Yesterday, after you left, I decided I couldn't go back to work. I came out here to think about what I should do. About what they want me to do."  
  
"Because they want you to take command of the ships?"  
  
"They think I'm the admiral, Chakotay."  
  
"I know." He sighed, standing up and offering her his hand. "But you don't have to do anything you don't want to do." She swayed slightly as she stood, holding onto him for balance, and he realized that she hadn't slept and probably hadn't eaten since he'd seen her the previous day. "Let's go inside and talk."  
  
"Okay." She followed him, her hand on his arm, but the tears still welled up in her eyes.  
  
"Why don't you clean up while I fix us some breakfast? I overslept and haven't eaten yet."  
  
"All right," she agreed, disappearing into the bathroom.  
  
Once he heard the water running in the shower, Chakotay made oatmeal, replicated fruit and juice, and brewed some decaffeinated coffee. By the time Kathryn reappeared in clean clothes with her wet hair pulled back, the table was set with flowers and an appetizing meal.  
  
"Oh, coffee," she said, taking the mug he handed her. "And oatmeal."  
  
They ate in silence for awhile, both of them hungry, and then Chakotay said, "What else happened after you came home?"  
  
She put down her spoon. "The EMH called me."  
  
"Damn." He sat back, his frustration clearly etched on his face. "I asked them not to contact you directly."  
  
"I know. He apologized for doing it, but he'd gotten my latest physical from the hospital and wanted to share the good news." She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. "He and Seven are sure they can restore my memory. It's merely a matter, he said, of 'resetting' the temporal displacement I suffered when my shuttle was caught in the rift."  
  
"And that's not a good thing?"  
  
"He said that the process would erase all the memories I have from the two years since the accident. I'd lose all the time with Untraah in non- aligned space," she choked back a sob, "and all the time we've been together. He was so happy about helping me, and I could tell he wanted me to be happy, too."  
  
Chakotay took her hand. "We can make new memories, Kathryn."  
  
"But what if . . . what if I . . ."  
  
"What if you aren't the same person?  
  
"What if I let the memories from before interfere with what we have now? I don't know what to do, Chakotay. Tuvok and the others have come all this way to help me, traveled all the way across one of the most dangerous regions in the Beta Quadrant just so they can restore my memory and take me home. How can I tell them no?  
  
"You can't tell them no yet. You need to think it through."  
  
"But I know I don't want to lose the memories we have. I don't want to leave you."  
  
"I don't want you to leave me." He realized that Kathryn was literally trembling with both physical and emotional exhaustion. "But we don't have to think about that right now. You need some sleep." He stood up and offered her his hand.  
  
"You'll stay with me?"  
  
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

* * *

"What's taking them so long?" Harry Kim complained as he did his third diagnostic on the transporter station. He was so impatient that he could hardly stand still. Any moment, Chakotay and Kathryn Janeway would be beaming aboard, and he felt like a child waiting for Santa Claus.  
  
Tuvok, who showed no sign of anticipation, answered in a calm voice, "We established no set time, Commander. I believe Chakotay said they would be ready at about 1000 hours. I'm sure we'll receive word momentarily."  
  
Harry sighed. While there were many times that he appreciated his captain's Vulcan equanimity, there were other times when he missed a genuine emotional reaction, the kind of shared excitement he used to see in Captain Janeway's face. The old timers say that you never really forget your first captain, and Harry knew that in his case that was true. He admitted that he had idolized her and even caught himself imitating her, yet he also knew that she was perhaps one of Starfleet's finest captains and more than worthy of emulation.  
  
He had been devastated when the admiral's shuttle had disappeared into thin air. He had volunteered to be on the search team that had spent two months following her ion trail, only to realize that the only clue was a mysterious and inconclusive tachyon resonance near the Serena Expanse. She was gone, this time for good, and he had grieved for her for a long time.  
  
No one had been more thrilled than Harry when they had received word that the admiral had been found on the other side of non-aligned space. When Starfleet proposed sending a small fleet through to the Republic to retrieve her, he had been the first to volunteer, although his name appeared only seconds before Tuvok's had. He was proud of the fact that fifteen members of Voyager's crew had signed on for the mission, and he was sure the admiral would be genuinely touched by their loyalty.  
  
A small chirp caught his attention. "Chakotay to Essex. Two to beam up."  
  
Tuvok turned to Harry and gave him a slight nod. Harry hurriedly activated the mechanism, and moments later, the familiar blue light of the transporter beam filled the room as two figures materialized on the pads.  
  
Chakotay was on the front panel, his body blocking their view of the small woman behind him. Harry thought he heard a slight gasp and then saw Kathryn Janeway step to Chakotay's side and slip her hand into his. Chakotay looked much as Harry had expected him to, the same muscular body and dimpled grin. Although his hair was liberally salted with gray, he looked good for his age, well rested and fit.  
  
Kathryn Janeway was a completely different story. For one thing, she always seemed smaller and more fragile when she was out of uniform. She wore a loose red sweater, black slacks, and low shoes that made her seem quite a bit shorter than Harry remembered. Her hair had grown long and was pulled back with a clip in a casual style he'd never seen her wear before. Most importantly, he sensed little of the command presence she had habitually exuded after her long tenure as Voyager's captain. It was as if that façade had been peeled off of her, leaving just the woman behind.  
  
For several moments, Kathryn's eyes took in the familiar décor of a Starfleet transporter room while the three men simply watched her, waiting for her reaction. At last, she blinked and turned to the two men facing her.  
  
"Tuvok," she said, her familiar voice washing over Harry like warm water. She stepped from the pad, still holding Chakotay's hand, and stopped to look up at the Vulcan who had been her oldest friend. "I can't believe you're here!"  
  
"All evidence to the contrary," the Vulcan replied, a twinkle in his eye. "I am gratified to see you, as well."  
  
Kathryn laughed as she let loose of Chakotay's hand and gave Tuvok a quick hug. "And people say Vulcans don't have a sense of humor."  
  
Harry stiffened as she turned to him. He had somehow made his way around the console and stood staring at her, his mouth agape. "Admiral," he croaked. "Welcome aboard."  
  
"Oh, Harry," she sighed, "look at you! A lieutenant commander and all grown up." She embraced him tenderly, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek before she stepped back and looked into his face. "But, please, call me Kathryn. I haven't resumed my former rank."  
  
"I'm sorry if we were a little late," Chakotay said as Kathryn returned to his side and took his hand again. "You know how women can be."  
  
"Unfair," she protested with a chuckle. "You're the one who let me sleep too late."  
  
Their banter was interrupted by the comm system. "Sickbay to Tuvok. Has the admiral arrived yet?" asked the EMH.  
  
"We're on our way, doctor," Tuvok replied, gesturing at the door. "Shall we talk on the way?"  
  
Chakotay just sighed. "I see the doctor's temperament hasn't changed."  
  
"Still his endearing self," Harry agreed.  
  
Kathryn remained strangely silent as they made their way to sickbay, but Harry could tell that she was taking in every sight and sound along the way. She never let loose of Chakotay's hand, he noticed, and she seemed more than a little nervous. And why wouldn't she? It had been six years since she'd been a Starfleet admiral, although she apparently had skipped four of those years because of the temporal rift. Add to that the fact that her memory had been damaged, and he suddenly felt a surge of sympathy for her. They were here to rescue her from a life that she was obviously comfortable in.  
  
For the first time, Harry realized that they were causing her as much pain as they were trying to cure. What had she said? "I haven't resumed my former rank."  
  
The doctor and Seven of Nine were standing in sickbay when the group arrived. Chakotay pulled Kathryn's arm through his own as he turned to the former drone. His actions left no doubt as to where his loyalties lay. "Seven, how are you?"  
  
"Chakotay." Seven nodded at him and turned to Kathryn. "Admiral. I am pleased to see both of you looking so well."  
  
Seven's presence affected Kathryn deeply, because she stared at the woman for several long moments before she finally spoke, her voice a whisper, "Seven, you have no idea how glad I am to see you, as well."  
  
The EMH, clearly exasperated at being overlooked, cleared his throat. "Allow me to welcome you to sickbay, Admiral. Chakotay."  
  
Kathryn tore her eyes from Seven's face and turned to carefully study him, recognition flickering across her expression. "Ah, yes. Doctor. How could I have forgotten?"  
  
The EMH scowled and his voice took on a characteristically haughty tone, "Perhaps because no one, including you, took sufficient notice of me."  
  
Kathryn laughed and gave Chakotay a wink. "I see what you mean," she whispered, while everyone in the room chuckled.  
  
Soon enough, Kathryn sat on the side of a biobed as the doctor began a thorough examination. Only Chakotay remained in the room, at her insistence, as the doctor did his preliminary scans. Finally, he looked up at her, his eyes sympathetic. "I had no idea just how damaged your memory really is. I had hoped the scans had been garbled during their transmission through non-aligned space."  
  
"I've been trying to recoup some of the details by reading everything I can get my hands on from the database the Maquis brought with them," she replied calmly. "And I've read the official logs and some personal logs from Voyager."  
  
"Your memories of your early life and schooling are largely intact," he continued as he studied his readouts. "It's the recent memories that are the most fragmented, especially from the Voyager years until the present."  
  
"The doctors here speculate that the high stress I felt during those years might have in some way earmarked them as more tenuous? In any event, I've worked hard at filling in the blanks."  
  
"I suspect it has more to do with the fact that the memories are more recent than with the pressure." The EMH looked up at her and gestured at the bed. "I'd like to sedate you for the next portion of the examination."  
  
Kathryn hesitated, her eyes flying to Chakotay's in alarm. He immediately moved to her side. "I'll be here. You don't have to worry about anything."  
  
"I would never harm you, Admiral. I mean, Kathryn."  
  
"I know that," she answered, taking Chakotay's hand again. "But please do nothing to change my memory yet. I'm still thinking about all you told me yesterday."  
  
"Ah. You're concerned about losing your most recent memories," he replied as he helped her lie down. "I understand. This is merely a more detailed diagnostic."  
  
She looked up at Chakotay and said, "I've already lost too much in my life, doctor. I can't bear to lose anything else."  
  
"Just relax," the EMH said as he pressed the hypospray into her neck. "This will be over before you know it."  
  
Kathryn's eyes were locked on Chakotay's until she slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

"The doctor thinks I should spend a few days on the ship." Kathryn and Chakotay were sitting in the Essex's quarters that had been designated for Admiral Janeway's use, quarters that were eerily similar to the ones she had lived in for seven years on Voyager. While the likeness was upsetting to him, Kathryn seemed oblivious to it. He wondered if she even remembered those other rooms. She waited quietly for him to react. "What do you think?"  
  
He sighed, closing his eyes as he pushed away the panic that was rising along his backbone. The doctor had talked to him about the proposition as well, explaining that Kathryn needed to experience her former life without Chakotay around. He wasn't happy about it and resented the doctor's unspoken implication that Chakotay was in some way influencing her decision, but he knew she needed to explore her previous life as thoroughly as possible.  
  
He gave her a reassuring smile. "I think he's just trying to help you understand what you've lost. I want you to make this decision based on the best possible information. I don't want you to look back later and second guess yourself."  
  
She had been spending a few hours every day on the Essex, interacting with the crew, touring the ship, and familiarizing herself with the ever-more- familiar Starfleet procedures. But she had limited herself to just short periods of time, returning each night to her home and her life with Chakotay.  
  
"The longer I'm on the ship, the more I become accustomed to Starfleet protocol."  
  
"I imagine so," he snorted. "You adhered to that protocol unquestioningly for thirty years."  
  
She frowned at the irritable tone of his voice, suddenly insecure. "You're angry with me."  
  
"I'm not angry." He stood up, though, and as he began to pace, he realized that he wasn't being honest with her and that his negative attitude was influencing her decision, just as the doctor had implied. He paused to look at her. "Well, I might be a little irritated. It's just . . . well, it was our adherence to protocol that kept us apart on Voyager, so, of course, I'm not overjoyed to think about following it again."  
  
"Oh. I can understand that."  
  
He resumed his pacing. "Are you going to stay on the ship?"  
  
"I think I will. They're going to take a two-week tour of some of the Republic member worlds. I thought I could go with them and serve as their guide."  
  
He nodded. "That makes perfect sense. They're leaving tomorrow morning?"  
  
"First thing." She watched him as he stopped pacing and gazed through the window toward the planet below. The darkened area to the south of the capital city was home. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the moonlight illuminating the lush garden and filling the house with its creamy light. Her voice was soft when she offered, "You could stay here with me tonight."  
  
He turned and looked at her. Except for the long hair hanging down her back, she looked just like Captain Janeway in her quarters on Voyager, dressed in casual clothing as she usually did when she hosted their weekly working dinner. He was nearly overcome by a wave of pain and frustration caused by the memory of her inaccessibility and remoteness during those days. He repressed the urge to make an unkind remark. "No, I'd better not. It's late and I have to be at work early in the morning."  
  
She stood up and came to him, looking up into his eyes. "You are angry with me."  
  
"I'm not angry." He took her hands in his and turned her to face him. "It's the situation. I know that I have to let you go, that you have to do this. I know that I have to be ready for whatever decision you make. I want you to make the right decision for you, Kathryn. If that means that you return to the Federation, I don't want you to feel guilty about that. I'm grateful for the time we've had together."  
  
"There are all kinds of possibilities for both of us in the Federation. You could come with me."  
  
They'd never discussed that possibility, he realized, and they needed to. She needed to know what impact every option would have on her life. "Yes, I could go with you, but I won't. I left the Federation over eight years ago, Kathryn, and I've never regretted that decision. My life is here now."  
  
"I thought you'd feel that way." She stepped back. "I have everything I'll need while I'm staying here, so I don't need to go back to the house."  
  
He nodded. "Good."  
  
"Will I hear from you while I'm gone?" she asked, her voice a whisper.  
  
"I don't think so. I think it's better for you to do this completely on your own."  
  
She took a deep breath and studied her hands. "I'm going to miss you. We haven't been apart more than a day or two in so long."  
  
"I'll miss you, too."  
  
It was very late, after midnight at the house, and she knew he needed to leave. She wanted to kiss him, to hold him for a moment in her arms, but she could see that he was too upset for that. It would be much better for her to keep her distance. "May I walk you to the transporter room?"  
  
He shook his head, his eyes tortured. "I'd rather say goodbye here, in private."  
  
"All right."  
  
"You'll keep them out of trouble."  
  
"I'll do my best."  
  
"I'm only worried about the Stengi rebels. Watch out for the rebels in the Wilderness. They would just love to attack our visitors and embarrass the Republic."  
  
A small grin appeared on her face. "Yes, you're right. They'd enjoy embarrassing you."  
  
Suddenly he was close to her, his body a warm, solid, familiar refuge. He took her face in his palm and looked into her eyes. "I only ask that you remember how much I love you."  
  
A tear found its way down her cheek and onto his hand. "I won't forget, Chakotay. I love you, too."  
  
He brushed her lips with a gentle kiss, and then he was gone.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	6. Chapter 6

"Here There Be Dragons" Part 6 (See part one for disclaimers)  
  
by Mizvoy  
  
"It's called leola root," Harry Kim said as he pulled out a chair for Kathryn. "If it's true that smell is a powerful trigger of memory, then this stuff should definitely bring back Neelix's cooking."  
  
He headed for the replicator as Kathryn looked around the mess hall, or, as they called it, the crew's lounge, nodding hello to the crew members sitting nearby. It was the end of her sixth full day on the Essex, and she had slipped effortlessly into the familiar routine of Starfleet's four six- hour shifts. And she had blended quickly into the crew itself, feeling more at home with each passing day, more comfortable with the idea of what her past life had been.  
  
She'd spent one evening interacting with the Voyager members of the crew, a second dining privately with Tuvok, and a third in a long, enlightening discussion with Seven of Nine. Tonight, Harry had offered to treat her to dinner in the mess hall, and she'd jumped at the chance to observe the crew in a more relaxed setting.  
  
"I wonder why Chakotay never served me leola root?" she asked when Harry returned. "He did everything he could think of to help me remember my past life, especially my time on Voyager."  
  
"Loela root is probably something he was saving as a last resort," he laughed, giving her a wink. "It wasn't a favorite of the crew, although Neelix did everything he could to make it palatable. This stew was about as good as it got." He placed the dish on the table in front of her and made a show of arranging the silverware, napkin, and drink for her meal. "We ate it because it was exceptionally nutritious, full of vitamins, and plentiful. But mostly, we ate it because we were starving, and leola root was all we had." He lifted the cover with a dramatic flare.  
  
At first, the odd orange and purple swirl of color caught her attention, but then the distinctive aroma assaulted her, nearly bringing tears to her eyes. "Oh, Harry," she said, clamping her hand over her mouth and nose. "We ate this?"  
  
"We had no choice." He sat down across from her, picked up a fork, and speared a chunk of the gooey root, twirling it in front of his eyes. "Believe it or not, I get hungry for it now and then."  
  
"You must be a masochist." Kathryn reluctantly lowered her hand and picked up a fork. She noticed with a small smile that the adjacent tables had been quickly abandoned when the leola root odor had reached them. "Does it taste as bad as it smells?"  
  
"Some people thought the slimy texture was worse than the smell."  
  
"Oh, great." She squeezed the sticky lump between her thumb and forefinger, noticing its spongy softness, and then stuck the whole thing into her mouth, nearly gagging as it disintegrated into a grainy gob of slime. She picked up her napkin and spit it out the root. "I can't believe I ate this stuff."  
  
"You had to. You were the captain, after all, and you had to set a good example for the rest of us."  
  
She picked up the cover and placed it firmly over the gooey mess on the plate, thinking that eating leola root stew without complaint was probably one of the most demanding duties she'd had to perform in the Delta Quadrant. "And this was as good as it got?"  
  
"I'll get us something decent," Harry laughed as he picked up the plate and headed toward the recycler. "Which would you prefer? Italian? Chinese? American?"  
  
"Surprise me." She thought to herself that dog food would taste better than leola root.  
  
While he was gone, she looked around the room, suddenly conscious of the fact that her pale blue non-Starfleet jumpsuit made her very conspicuous. Tuvok had asked her to wear a Starfleet uniform, but she had firmly refused to do so, reminding him that her real function on the Essex was to host their tour of the Republic's major member planets. And she insisted that they call her Ms. Janeway, not admiral, even though she could see the disappointment in the Voyager crews' eyes at her defiant attitude.  
  
However, she had to admit that she had enjoyed the Starfleet routine; to be truthful, she was delighted with it. During the day, when she was busy working in various departments of the ship, she relished her interaction with the young crew and was often surprised by how many of the routine tasks came back to her without any conscious effort. She appreciated the discipline and order of a Starfleet ship, as well as the variety of the daily work and the challenge of the scientific research.  
  
Although she had been busy during the days, she found time during the evenings to read everything she could find on Voyager in Essex's historical database. Because she had lost so much of those years, including her memories of Chakotay and the rest of the Maquis, she was fascinated by the scope and detail she found. One evening, she scheduled a few hours on the holodeck so she could walk through recreations of Voyager's ready room, bridge, sick bay, engineering, and her quarters, but she found the exercise less than satisfactory. It was the people she missed, she realized, not the ship itself.  
  
She had been pleasantly surprised to find that her personal logs for her entire Starfleet career had been sent along for her review. She realized that it would take many long hours to go over them all, so she chose ten or twenty logs from each of her final ten years to study in detail, planning to finish before Essex's tour was completed. She had an increased understanding of the important work she'd done and of how Starfleet had indeed been a perfect fit for her interests and talents, a career that even now seemed to call to her.  
  
If only Chakotay would be open to a compromise, she thought as she gazed out the window, noticing the distant distinctive red swirl of the Wilderness, a particularly dangerous finger of non-aligned space just beyond the Stengil system. She remembered the warning about the rebels known the hide there, and reminded herself that Chakotay was thoroughly integrated into the Republic. He had managed to make himself a productive member of society in his stay here, so much so that the dangers of the region were as customary to him as the threat of the Romulans or the Cardassians in the Federation were to the Federation citizens.  
  
She missed Chakotay every minute of the day, yet she was sad to think that her tour on the Essex was nearly halfway over already. If she had her memory restored, she suspected that she would want to return to the Federation and would do everything in her power to get him to come along with her. And she was equally sure that her efforts to convince him would fail.  
  
"Chicken pot pie," Harry said, interrupting her thoughts as he placed the delicious-looking dish in front of her. "I ran into Naomi at the replicator, and she said the two of you were partial to it on Voyager."  
  
She took an appreciative sniff. "I'll have to thank Naomi for reminding me," she said, giving him a wink as she broke into the steaming brown crust. She didn't have to decide what she would do yet, she reminded herself as she groaned with satisfaction at the delicious flavors of the pie. She looked up at Harry with a grin on her face. "I'll have to find out what other secrets Naomi is keeping from me."

* * *

Chakotay couldn't sleep. He had carefully followed the progress of the Starfleet vessels as they had passed the checkpoints in the Republic, and had taken comfort in seeing Kathryn's security code transmitted from the Essex each time. But the closer the small fleet came to the Wilderness, the more he worried. The conflict with the rebels in the Stengilli sector was always a potential problem.  
  
Soon after he had taken over the Republic's security force, he'd handed the Stengilli renegades a resounding defeat that resulted in the planet's joining the union as a provisional member. A small band of insurgents had escaped, though, and had periodically disrupted the peace as a reminder of their dissatisfaction. They would love nothing better than to attack the ships from the Federation--his home--and exact their revenge. In hindsight, he wished he had sent more than just the diplomatic teams along with Tuvok's ships. It wasn't that he thought that the Starfleet vessels needed the extra protection; it was just that he wanted tactical information in a timely manner, and without Kathryn's knowing he was checking up on her.  
  
He shifted on his cot as he tried to find a comfortable position. He hadn't spent a night at their house since Kathryn's departure, deciding to sleep in his office instead. He couldn't bear to be surrounded by her things when it was possible that she wouldn't be returning. B'Elanna scoffed at the suggestion that Kathryn would leave for the Federation, but he knew that it was a definite possibility. There were times when he thought it was inevitable. The likelihood of her departure had been the one consideration that had made him reluctant to become involved with her in the first place. He wondered how he would survive if she left him, and then pushed the thought from his mind.  
  
The comm unit on his desk gleamed in the moonlight, reminding him that he had promised not to contact her. How many times had he regretted that decision? A dozen times a day he thought of something he wanted to tell her, imagined what she would say about a situation, and moved to call her before he remembered that she wasn't there, that he couldn't and wouldn't call her. He groaned, and sat up in bed, noticing that it was only 0300.  
  
"Sir? Are you awake, sir?"  
  
He turned to see a young security officer at his door and was so grateful for the interruption that he almost jumped out of bed and gave the young man a hug. "Yes, I am, as a matter of fact. What's wrong?"  
  
"You said to let you know if anything unusual happened along the Wilderness."  
  
Chakotay felt a fist close around his heart. "Something has?"  
  
"Well, I'm not sure it's anything really. It's just that there are some unusual subspace distortions that are making communication impossible. I want to say it's jamming, but it could also be some naturally occurring phenomena."  
  
"But you don't think so?"  
  
"It would be too much of a coincidence that it happened just before the Starfleet ships arrived at the Raptor checkpoint, don't you think?"  
  
"Yes, I do. Did the ships report in at the checkpoint?"  
  
"It's impossible to tell, sir."  
  
He got up and started getting dressed as he called out a list of orders. "Call Tom Paris and tell him to report to the orbital station as soon as possible. Have the ships in the Stengilli sector move toward the Wilderness at best possible speed. I think we'd better just follow up on your suspicions and make sure this isn't the sign of something serious."  
  
The young man was obviously relieved that his hunch had been taken seriously. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Oh, and Ensign?" Chakotay said, giving him a dimpled grin. "Good work."  
  
The young man nearly burst with pride. "Thank you, sir."  
  
As he finished dressing, he wondered just what the rebels thought they could do against three Starfleet ships. If they thought Tuvok would just fold his hands and give up, they were in for a big surprise. And if Kathryn Janeway showed any of her former military skills, they were going to regret their decision soon enough--as long as the ships weren't hopelessly outnumbered. He paused at his desk and picked up her picture, running his thumb across the glass. "I said I wouldn't contact you, but I never said I wouldn't follow you."  
  
His commbadge activated. "Paris to Chakotay. B'Elanna is insisting that she come along."  
  
"I should've expected that," he replied with a chuckle. "If I told her not to come, would she listen?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Well then, she'd better come along."  
  
"We'll meet you at the station in twenty minutes."  
  
"Okay, Tom." He stopped, realizing that for the last fifteen years, he'd never faced a crisis alone because of the loyalty of his crew, both Maquis and Starfleet. "And thanks, from both Kathryn and me."  
  
"No problem, Chakotay. We know both of you'd be there for us."  
  
He closed the link and hurried to the bathroom where he ran a comb through his hair, brushed his teeth, and then found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. "You can't let anything happen to her. You'll never forgive yourself."

* * *

Kathryn discovered that she couldn't get the smell of leola root off of her hands. She had washed them repeatedly, had smoothed on half a bottle of hand lotion one dollop at a time, and had soaked them during her long, hot bath, but when she crawled into bed, the odor was still there waiting to overwhelm her.  
  
As Harry Kim had so accurately predicted, the aroma brought with it renewed memories. But the memories weren't of Neelix and his cooking, they were of the emotions she'd felt during their seven-year-long exile, emotions that were assaulting her and threatening to overpower her, one by one. Worry. Panic. Struggle. Hopelessness. Isolation. Responsibility. Sleeplessness. Terror. Despair. Guilt. Loneliness. Misery. Desperation.  
  
She found it impossible to breathe while lying down, so she got up and began to pace, rubbing yet more lotion into her hands. She realized that of all the people with her in the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay had been the one who had understood her predicament best and had been able to relieve her feelings of anguish. She thought about calling him. He'd said he wouldn't contact her, and he'd kept his word, but she'd made no such promise, and she missed him terribly. If she could just hear his voice, she knew that she could relax and sleep. He'd want her to call him if she needed him. She was sure of it.  
  
She headed for the comm unit and activated it, only to notice with a pang of regret that it would be the middle of the night there, not exactly the best time to call. She was reaching to terminate the connection when the computer said, "Subspace communication jammed."  
  
"Jammed?" she said aloud. "Computer, did you say that subspace is jammed?"  
  
"Affirmative."  
  
"Since when?" No answer. "Computer, how long has subspace communication been jammed?"  
  
"One hour and three minutes."  
  
"Source of the jamming?"  
  
"Unknown."  
  
Kathryn turned to her console and pulled up the fleet's location on the Republic's map. They were right on course, but she hadn't been notified when they had passed the Raptor checkpoint during the night. Was it possible that the bridge crew hadn't received the usual automated request for verification from the checkpoint? If they had, she would've been summoned to the bridge to enter her security code, as she always was. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.  
  
She pressed the comm button on the console. "Janeway to Tuvok."  
  
There was a pause. She realized that he was probably fast asleep, but she also knew that when he spoke, he would sound as if he'd been wide awake for hours. She wondered how he managed that. "Tuvok here."  
  
"I think we have a situation developing. Subspace communication is jammed. And we passed the Raptor checkpoint without being contacted."  
  
"I see. Do you think this could be an indication of problems with the rebels?"  
  
Before she could answer, the ship was rocked by phaser fire and the sound of the red alert siren filled the ship. "I think we just had that question answered."  
  
"I agree. I request that you join me on the bridge as soon as possible . . . Admiral."  
  
Kathryn gripped the desk as another volley of phaser fire rocked the ship. Tuvok was asking her to take charge of the situation, and why wouldn't he? She knew Starfleet, she knew the three ships' capabilities, and she knew the Stengilli renegades and their tactics. It made sense for her to assume command, but she still wasn't sure that was what she wanted to do.  
  
"I'll meet you there, Captain," she replied. She dashed to her bedroom, threw open the closet, and stared at the gray and burgundy uniform, the three pips of a vice admiral winking at her from the collar. Tuvok had made sure the uniform was ready for her in case she decided to wear it, but until now she'd simply pretended it wasn't there.  
  
A third volley hit the ship, and as the Essex returned fire, Kathryn made her decision. Grabbing the uniform, she dressed quickly and headed for the bridge.

* * *

Chakotay sat beside Tom Paris as the pilot took the shuttle on a quick tour around the battle-scarred exterior of the Essex. As much as he wanted to get onto the ship and find out about Kathryn's condition, he was fascinated by the damage, trying to imagine how it had been inflicted and how the ship had survived. He kept telling himself that he would know if she'd been killed or seriously injured. He kept telling himself that someone would've informed him if the admiral had been lost.  
  
Yet, the details of the battle were still sketchy. Although the Republic's home fleet had reached the Starfleet ships two hours earlier, communication with Essex had yet to be restored. The accounts of the battle had come mostly from the wounded being evacuated from Essex and from the other two vessels, which had been busy with their own skirmishes at the time. Now, Essex's crew was still struggling to restore power while the wounded were evacuated via shuttle for treatment elsewhere. Beaming through the contamination caused by multiple warp-core breeches was much too risky to attempt.  
  
B'Elanna Torres stood behind her husband commenting on what she saw. "The port nacelle is shot--probably from a rebel ship's warp core breech. Looks like they took out all the lateral relays along the port side--see how the exterior is peeled back? The core was ejected while they were dead in the water, because the lowest deck is split all along the keel. I'm guessing the emergency bulkhead failed, too. Tom, take us up and over."  
  
Chakotay tried not to panic as he saw the extent of the destruction. "I haven't seen damage like this since Wolf 359. Did the rebels even engage the other two ships?"  
  
"My god." Paris brought the shuttle to a dead stop. "Look at the bridge."  
  
"What bridge?" B'Elanna whispered. "I sure hope they evacuated it in time."  
  
The top dome, the traditional location of the bridge on Starfleet vessels, had been peeled back like an eggshell, and the exterior of the primary hull had been so brutally scarred that the name and registration number of the ship was obliterated. They could see repair crews in environmental suits moving along the outside cutting away the useless pieces of metal and conduit. Through gaping holes, they could see inside the passageways of deck two where engineers were reinforcing the emergency bulkheads and opening panels in the walls to access critical power relays.  
  
Chakotay felt sick. "I'd heard that rebels rammed the Essex, but I was hoping that they only hit the port nacelle."  
  
"I heard they were rammed twice," Tom replied. "Maybe they got the nacelle and the bridge."  
  
Chakotay added that information to what he'd learned earlier.  
  
Ten hours had passed from the time Chakotay had been awakened about the subspace jamming before they received the first preliminary report that a battle had taken place. The time had seemed to crawl by, and even though they were traveling at better than warp nine, they were still two hours away from the battle zone. Just as Chakotay was about to lose his patience, he had been contacted by the home fleet's commander, Captain Argin.  
  
_"Tell me," Argin had said, the subspace communication still distorted from the residual effects of the jamming device, "is this Admiral Janeway the same person as your Kathryn?"  
  
"Kathryn was an admiral in Starfleet, yes."  
  
"You've been holding out on us, Chakotay."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"The senior Starfleet captain was injured early in the battle, and this Admiral Janeway took command of Essex."  
  
"Tuvok was hurt? Is he going to be all right?"  
  
"Apparently so. He's said to be in a 'healing trance.' They were attacked by six rebel ships--three destroyers and three raiders--about two hours past the expanse outpost."  
  
Chakotay envisioned the location, perhaps the most remote area in the Republic. The destroyers were almost an even match for the Starfleet ships, and the addition of the three nimble raiders definitely put the odds in the rebels' favor. "How did she do?"  
  
"The admiral? Well, when the battle ended, all three Starfleet ships were still in one piece, more or less. And only two destroyers sneaked back into the expanse to lick their wounds." Argin's face had broken into a wide grin. "That's what I mean when I say that you've been holding back. Why haven't you been sharing the admiral's expertise with the rest of the security force?"  
  
Once this first conversation had ended, more and more details drifted through the comm links. They learned that the rebels had swarmed around all three ships until they determined which one contained Kathryn Janeway; then they focused the most vicious attacks on the Essex. Captain Argin confirmed this in a subsequent report.  
  
"Once they were close enough for direct communication, the rebels opened a channel, pretending to seek a ceasefire. When Admiral Janeway responded, the rebel leader asked her if she were the same woman who was involved with you."  
  
"Was it Haseran?"  
  
"Yes, believe it or not."  
  
"I thought he was in prison on Pelates V."  
  
"So did I. Anyway, once he knew who she was for sure, he told her that he was there to kill her."  
  
"I'm sure that went over well with Kathryn."  
  
"According to my source, she just said, 'Not today.'" Argin laughed. "I love her spunk, Chakotay. What a woman! Anyway, after that the main thrust of the battle was directed at Essex, including at least one or two suicide attacks by the raiders. I'm afraid most of the casualties were there."  
  
"Kathryn?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm sorry, Chakotay. We haven't established direct communication with the ship as yet. The Essex is adrift and will probably have to be towed to a Stengilli dry dock for repair. In the meantime, the critically injured are being shuttled to the other two ships, and the remainder of the crew to ours. Once you arrive, I suggest you shuttle to the Essex and find out about her for yourself."  
_  
As Tom re-engaged the engines and began their approach to the shuttle bay, Chakotay was hit with another overwhelming wave of guilt. Why hadn't the Pelaten officials warned him of Haseran's escape? Chakotay still vividly remembered the day that he had discovered that Haseran, the Republic's former security chief, was actually a traitor who had been cooperating with the rebels to overthrow the Stengilli government. Once his cover had been blown, he'd escaped from Republic space only to find himself on the wrong side of Pelaten law and sentenced to ten years in jail. Chakotay should have realized that Haseran would find a way to escape or to purchase his freedom and come after him.  
  
B'Elanna broke the silence. "Well, the good thing is that we'll have our friends around for a couple of months. It's going to take at least that long to get the Essex warp-capable again."  
  
Tom had barely touched down in the Essex's shuttle bay before Chakotay activated the hatch. He was greeted by none other than Harry Kim.  
  
"Welcome aboard," Harry said. "I figured this had to be you."  
  
"Where's Kathryn?" Chakotay demanded, not wanting to wait for the niceties.  
  
"Last I heard she was on deck four trying to get the comm system up again."  
  
Chakotay turned to Tom and B'Elanna. "I'll be on deck four."  
  
"As if we had to ask," Tom answered, as relieved as the others were to know she was uninjured. "We'll be in engineering. Right, B'Elanna?"  
  
"Where else?" She winked. "Tell Kathryn we said hello."  
  
Chakotay, already halfway across the shuttle bay, didn't bother to answer, his mind already planning the route to deck four. He assumed, correctly, that the turbolifts were offline and headed for the jeffries tubes. The shuttle bay was on deck nine, which meant he had to crawl through five decks, probably using a circuitous path to avoid damaged areas and work crews. From the debris he had to pick through, the stale air, and the eerie red glow of emergency lighting, he figured it would take awhile to find her. It wasn't fun to climb five decks when the ship was in good condition, but this would be a nightmare.  
  
"You'll need this, sir," a young crewman said handing him a sims beacon. "You can't see your hand in front of your face in there."  
  
"Thanks. Could you tell me where on deck four I can find communications?"  
  
"Section 44, sir. Directly above where we are now."  
  
"That's good news." He stepped through the first access panel and started crawling.  
  
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Chakotay arrived on deck four, section 39, and stepped into the passageway. He was dripping wet with perspiration, his back was killing him, and his knees were so sore he could barely stand up. Even worse, he realized at once that the comm system was up again, which could only mean that Kathryn had probably moved on. He sent up a silent plea that she'd stayed on deck four.  
  
He walked to the nearest wall panel and activated the speaker. "Chakotay to Janeway." He waited a moment and repeated the call.  
  
"Mr. Chakotay?" came an unfamiliar, hesitant female voice. "The Admiral took off her tunic, so she isn't wearing her commbadge. She's in the middle of a jeffries tube and can't hear you. Would you like me to go get her?"  
  
"Just tell me where she is. I'll find her."  
  
"Junction 4-15 beta, sir."  
  
He looked around, realizing he was in the gamma passageway and that she would be one deck closer to the center of the ship and on the opposite side. "I'm at deck 4-39 gamma. Could you tell me which direction I should take?"  
  
"Normally, I'd say to go forward, sir, but I happen to know the passageway is blocked in that direction. Head aft and come around. She's in a tube that connects gamma and beta. You'll know when you're getting close."  
  
"Is she cursing that loud?" he chuckled.  
  
The woman laughed back. "Well, there is that. But what I meant was that you'll see several of us who are working with her in the gamma passageway."  
  
"I see. I'm on my way." He wanted to run, but his knees simply refused to cooperate. Instead, he set up a brisk pace and soon found himself approaching two young ensigns, one kneeling in front of an open panel and a second one searching desperately through a tool kit in the near darkness. He smiled in relief. "This must be deck 4, section 15."  
  
Before either of them could answer, a familiar voice echoed out of the open access, its owner obviously struggling to keep her patience, "If you can't find the midsize spanner, ensign, just give me the closest size you can find."  
  
"I'd go bigger, if I were you. She likes big tools," he grinned, taking the spanner from the ensign's hand and giving her an exaggerated wink. "Allow me to deliver it for you."  
  
The ensign grinned back. "Please do."  
  
Chakotay ducked into the jeffries tube and crawled to the junction where Kathryn was impatiently waiting for the tool she needed. He arrived at the opening and stopped, suddenly hesitant. Kathryn's back was to him because she was working on the opposite side of the platform, but his relief at seeing her alive and in one piece was tempered by the fact that she was wearing a Starfleet uniform.  
  
Here, in real life, was the outcome he feared the most--Kathryn resuming her Starfleet career and leaving him to pick up her former life in the Federation. A sense of dread and despair washed over him as he focused on the uniform that represented all the barriers and the protocols that had kept them apart on Voyager. For a moment, he considered returning to the passageway and letting the ensign deliver the spanner after all, but then he changed his mind. If she were going to leave him, he might as well face the facts here, privately, and avoid having someone else present to witness it. He swung his legs around and dropped quietly to the platform.  
  
Kathryn didn't bother to turn and look at him, she simply raised her right hand above her shoulder, palm empty to receive the spanner, and said, "It's about time you got here."  
  
He placed the spanner in her hand. "I came as quickly as I could."  
  
The tool clattered to the floor as Kathryn twirled to face him, her eyes wide with surprise.  
  
"Chakotay!" she cried, throwing her right arm around his neck and pulling him into a fierce embrace. "What a relief it is to see you!"  
  
"Is it?" He had actually been afraid that she would act as a Starfleet admiral would, as officious and as distant as she'd been as his captain. But her reaction to his presence had been so open and genuinely affectionate that he gratefully embraced her, oblivious to the fact that she kept her left arm between them.  
  
"When I realized that Tuvok was hurt and that everyone was looking at me to take over, I was so afraid of making a mistake I could hardly think. I thought about what might happen if my memory failed me at the worst possible moment." She buried her face in his chest with a tiny sob. "Thank God Harry was there to assist me."  
  
"From all reports, you did fine, Kathryn. No one suspected that you were anything but the usual, totally confident Admiral Janeway. You definitely kicked the rebels' butts. Captain Argin wants you to come to work for him in the fleet."  
  
"I was lucky that Haseran was so focused on attacking me personally. It was his weakness, and I used it against him." She sighed, pulling back and glancing around the junction. "Unfortunately, Essex took the brunt of his fury. And we lost five crew members. So far."  
  
"This was my fault, Kathryn. I should've expected something like this might happen."  
  
"You mean you should've expected Haseran to come after us? We all thought he was in prison."  
  
Before he could protest, Chakotay looked down at her and realized that her left arm was in a sling. "You're injured?"  
  
She shrugged, lifting her arm slightly to show him the wrapping around the wrist. "It's probably just a sprain."  
  
"Are you sure?" He took her small wrist between his fingers and noticed the flash of pain in her eyes. "Did the doctor look at it?"  
  
She dismissed the idea with a wave of her good hand. "He's busy with the critically injured. Let me finish here. Once I get our subspace communications working again, I'll have someone look at it."  
  
"You've been working with one arm in a sling since the battle ended?" He tried to imagine how she had managed to crawl around the interior of the ship for the last six hours with her arm in a sling. Jeffries tubes were notoriously difficult on knees and wrists, and the ladders would've been nearly impossible. "You need to see the doctor now."  
  
A Starfleet engineer appeared on the ladder from the deck below. He had obviously overheard the last part of their conversation, because he said, "I'll take over here, Admiral. Go ahead and have your arm treated."  
  
"If you're going to finish this, I should go to engineering," she said, shaking her head. "There's so much that needs to be done before Essex can even tolerate a tractor beam."  
  
Chakotay disagreed. "B'Elanna's already in engineering. If I know her, she has everything under control."  
  
Kathryn let him pull her toward the jeffries tube. "B'Elanna's here?"  
  
"You mean the half-Klingon woman?" the engineer laughed as he knelt down and opened his tool box. "I'm hearing that woman is a tyrant. She's already restored power to the auxiliary bridge. The engineering staff is scrambling to keep up with her."  
  
"That's our B'Elanna. And Tom's with her." Chakotay was relieved to see Kathryn visibly relax. "The worst of the crisis is over, Kathryn. You can let someone else step in for awhile."  
  
"Okay." She turned to the engineer. "I already replaced the primary power coupling."  
  
"Yeah, I see that. We'll have subspace before you know it, Admiral."  
  
Chakotay took Kathryn's hand and led her toward the open wall panel. "Do you need help crawling through the jeffries tube?"  
  
She smiled, but her eyes were drooping with fatigue. "I've been scooting on my bottom."  
  
He gestured for her to go first, repressing a grin. "This I have to see."

* * *

Two months later, Tom Paris arrived at Chakotay's house, followed the sound of chopping around to the back yard, and leaned against a tree to watch the older man split wood. Even though he was in his late fifties, Chakotay was in very good shape and attacked the work with characteristic vigor, methodically balancing the logs on a tree stump, resting the axe head on a fissure in the log's surface, and then bringing the axe down with such force that the two halves fell to either side with a satisfying crack.  
  
It was a warm afternoon for late fall, and Chakotay had stripped down to his jeans and boots, the bronzed skin of his powerful upper body glistening with perspiration. If the pile of split logs was any indication, he'd been chopping wood for most of the day. A great way to build up muscles, Tom thought, but also too much pure exertion for his taste.  
  
"There are easier ways to do that, you know," Tom commented.  
  
Chakotay looked up in surprise. Taking advantage of the interruption, he propped the axe handle against his leg and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his face. "Haven't you heard that a person who chops his own firewood is warmed twice?"  
  
"Who needs to be warmed on a day like this? Besides, a laser takes a lot less time and makes smoother cuts."  
  
"Yeah, but chopping has the advantage of giving me an outlet for my frustrations, not to mention making me tired enough to sleep at night."  
  
Tom knew quite well what frustrations Chakotay was talking about. Kathryn and B'Elanna had spent the last ten weeks at the Stengilli dry dock helping to repair the Essex, while he and Chakotay had returned to their normal duties on the Republic's home planet. The ship's restoration was finally complete, however, and Essex was expected to dock at the orbital station in a few hours. Tom had been on his way to meet the ship--and his wife--when he'd decided to stop by and check on his friend, thinking they might travel together.  
  
"You aren't going, are you?" Tom checked the time. He'd have to leave soon or risk being late, and there was no way Chakotay could clean up in time to go with him.  
  
Chakotay picked up one half of the log he'd just split and balanced it on the stump. He rested the axe on a likely target before raising it over his head. "You guessed right," he said, bringing the axe down with another satisfying crack. He tossed the two smaller pieces on the growing pile behind him and picked up the second half.  
  
"Kathryn's probably expecting you to meet her, you know." Tom watched as the second half of the log was split neatly in two and the pieces tossed onto the pile. "You've got plenty of firewood there."  
  
"Maybe I'm expecting a cold winter, Tom." He balanced the next log on the stump and paused, giving his friend an unreadable look. Tom had been a good friend to him since the Starfleet ships had arrived and disrupted his life, but Chakotay knew he disliked being the middle man between him and Kathryn. Better to leave matters unspoken. He returned to his work.  
  
"She's told you she's leaving?"  
  
"Not in so many words." Crack.  
  
"You do talk to her, right?"  
  
"Every couple of days." He balanced another log. "But we ignore all the important emotional issues, just as we did on Voyager." Crack. Two more pieces hit the pile. He stopped again and stared at the empty stump. "I should've known better, Tom. She's the same person she was then, memories or not. Duty and career first. I just wanted so much for it to be different this time."  
  
"Yeah." Tom felt sorry for his friend as he watched him balance the second half of the log on the stump. He'd witnessed most of the interactions between Voyager's command team both on the ship and since, and he'd always known that Chakotay had gotten the short end of the stick. And he'd always admired the man's incredible resiliency when dealing with Kathryn, the way he'd continued to love her in spite of her seeming unwillingness, or inability, to return his devotion. "But you really don't know what she's decided."  
  
"She effectively rejoined Starfleet months ago, Tom." Crack. "That says everything, doesn't it?"  
  
"B'Elanna says she hasn't put on the uniform once since the battle," Tom argued, desperately wanting to encourage him. "And she hasn't just worked on the Essex. She's spent at least half of her time out there running battle drills with our home fleet."  
  
Chakotay tossed the pieces onto the pile and eyed another log. "And every minute of it on the far side of the Republic."  
  
"You could've gone out there, too."  
  
The only time Chakotay and Kathryn had been together since the chaos following the rebel battle had been a brief meeting during a war game six weeks earlier near Stengilli territory--if you could call sharing the cockpit of a shuttle as "being together." Every other attempt to see each other had been frustrated by the extreme distance and their busy lives. B'Elanna had managed to come home a couple of times to see Tom and the kids, but then she was focused solely on the ship's repairs.  
  
"Kathryn was too busy to entertain guests, Tom."  
  
"She was doing double duty between the Essex and the war games. B'Elanna's been gone as long as she has, Chakotay. The kids and I have missed her, too."  
  
He balanced a log. "At least you know this is a temporary separation. You know she's coming back to stay." Crack.  
  
"You don't know that Kathryn isn't."  
  
Chakotay picked up half of the log, balanced it, and rested the axe on it. "You'd better get going, or you'll be late." Crack.  
  
"And what do I tell Kathryn?"  
  
Chakotay picked up the second half of the log and studied it. "This side has a knot, see?"  
  
Tom walked toward the stump and eyed the log. "The rounded protrusion?"  
  
"The knot means that this piece won't split evenly." He balanced the log on the stump and brought down the axe with all his strength, but the blade stuck fast in the wood. He raised the axe, wood and all, and brought it down on the stump once, twice, three times before it gave way, a slender piece peeling off, leaving the knot in the larger section. Chakotay sighed and tossed the small piece onto the kindling pile. "The knot burns longer, but won't fit in middle of the woodpile. The swollen part makes the pile unsteady, so it has to be on top. Or by itself."  
  
Tom frowned. "You want me to tell Kathryn that she's the knot that always has to be on top?"  
  
"No," he laughed as he tossed the knot aside to a separate pile of uneven firewood. "Tell her I'm splitting wood."  
  
"That's it?  
  
"She'll understand."  
  
Perplexed by the cryptic answer, Tom watched Chakotay pick up a new log and place it on the stump, resting the axe on it in preparation for the next blow. As he turned and walked toward his land vehicle in front of the house, the sound of the axe echoed through the hillside.  
  
To be continued . . .


	7. Chapter 7

"Here There Be Dragons" Part 7 (for disclaimers, see Part 1)

by Mizvoy

"Splitting wood?" Kathryn repeated, her eyes losing focus as she looked past Tom's shoulder into the distance. Her irritation with Chakotay for missing the reception evaporated like steam. "But it's so cold."

The Republic's State Department had surprised the three Starfleet ships with a reception that Kathryn had had no choice but to attend. There had been a cocktail hour, a seven-course dinner, and then speeches and awards that seemed to go on forever. Kathryn had become more and more restless as time passed and had finally confronted Tom Paris about Chakotay's whereabouts.

"It was beautiful earlier today, almost like summer before the front came through. He had a stack of wood big enough for three winters, if you ask me," Tom continued, noticing how she suddenly grew quiet and hoping it was a good sign. "He seemed almost obsessed by the job. Maybe he knew the cold weather was closing in."

The region was prone to violent thunderstorms, especially during the months between the summer and winter season. As Essex had arrived at the station, Kathryn had contacted the weathernet and seen on radar the huge bank of angry clouds that had obliterated her view of the capital city and of the hills south of the city where their house was located. According to the locals, the temperatures had dropped from a late summer record high to nearly freezing in less than an hour.

"I love a fireplace," she sighed, pulling her sweater around her. "It makes a house homier, don't you think?"

A similar brutal storm the previous spring had brought about the addition of a stone fireplace to Chakotay's house. High winds had blown down several trees along the creek, and Kathryn had suggested "recycling" the wood by burning it in a cozy new fireplace.

"Let me guess," Chakotay had laughed, "I get to split the wood. And I also get to build the fireplace."

"I'll help," she'd protested as she'd given him an excited hug. "And then, next winter, when we're cuddling in front of the fire, I'll think up special ways to reward you for all your hard work."

He had been charmed with her enthusiasm and had thrown himself into the project. Their trips to the surrounding hills to find rock for the chimney and the two weeks they'd spent tearing out a wall and replacing it with the hearth had been the happiest moments of their life together. In fact, she realized, she couldn't imagine how anyone could be happier than they had been as they worked on improving their home.

"You know, Kathryn," Tom said, bringing her back to the present, "I'm sure everyone here would understand if you decided to call it a night. You've been away for nearly three months."

"I don't have any transportation," she said, embarrassed to admit that she had assumed Chakotay would take care of such details.

Tom's face lit up. "I bet the Essex would beam you over there. Using their transporter would save you a lot of time and aggravation."

She agreed and began to make her excuses, thanking the Repubic's diplomats for their generous celebration and promising the Starfleet crew that she'd be back soon. She arranged to beam onto the Essex and retrieve a few belongings before she materialized on the cold and rain spattered front porch of Chakotay's house. Everything was dark and silent. Chakotay hadn't even waited up for her, she realized with a sense of alarm.

She let herself into the house and quickly toured the rooms, discovering that it was deserted and cold. She walked to the back of the house and let herself onto the screened porch. The freshly chopped wood was stacked in rows three deep along the fence. She realized that Tom hadn't been kidding about three winters' worth of wood. Then she noticed that the ground around the woodpile was scarred with mud and footprints. Chakotay must have finished the job during the driving rain.

Her eyes moved to the small cabin at the bottom of the hill. He always cleaned up down there when he was too filthy "for civilization," as he put it. She decided that he must have gone there for a hot shower and then decided not to brave the cold for a trip back up the hill.

Kathryn rifled through her bag for the PADD she wanted to share with him, grabbed one of Chakotay's warm jackets from the peg by the back door, and headed down the hill, following the white rock of the pathway that seemed to glow in the half-light of the moon. It was pure joy and relief for her to be off of space ships and space stations for the first time in weeks. She admired the beautiful clouds and breathed in the crisp air as she walked, the only sound the crunch of the rock beneath her feet. She could see her breath in front of her like white puffs of smoke and relished the lingering aroma of Chakotay's cologne in the jacket collar as she hunched into its warmth.

The cologne brought with it an aching loneliness she had repressed for too long, and she began to realize just how much she'd missed his company. However, her main concern was Chakotay's state of mind. He had called her less frequently in the recent weeks, blaming it on his inability to track her down as she traveled about in the Stengilli sector, and she had often let three or four days pass before she had contacted him. Yet he had never chastised her for neglecting him, a behavior she found strangely unsettling. It was almost as if he had expected her to forget him.

She stopped in her tracks, fingering the PADD in her pocket. She knew without doubt that he had expected her to forget him, to put him second or third in her priorities, and she realized, with a feeling of despair, that she had done just that. No wonder he hadn't come to meet the Essex.

She lifted her head and resumed her walk toward the small cabin, her pace much slower and her mood more pensive. As she had become more and more preoccupied with her work, Chakotay must have thought she'd reverted to her former self. Her withdrawal must have made him think that she'd decided to go through the doctor's memory-restoring procedure and maybe even to accept Tuvok's offer to assume command of the small fleet. And she had been too distracted, too selfish, and too damned blind to see things from his perspective.

A deep, threatening growl brought her to a halt a second time. Suddenly afraid, she realized that she had come out after dark, in late fall, without a phaser. Chakotay had warned her about the dangerous packs of tosavou that roamed the hills during their fall mating season. As massive and as powerful as grizzlies, the males emerged in packs at sunset to hunt for food to sustain them in their relentless quest for a mate. She measured the distance to the small cabin in despair. Too far. And much too far to run back up the hill to the house.

She sensed more than saw the shadow moving in the darkness to her right, but before she could drop into a defensive huddle, the shaggy beast was upon her. She screamed as it launched itself at her, batting at her with a paw the size of her head and knocking her up into the air and backwards onto the rocks of the pathway. She landed heavily, too stunned by the blow to move, and felt the tosavou place one of its huge paws upon her chest to squeeze the air out of her lungs, its fetid, hot breath on her face as it opened its dripping mouth to rip out her throat.

She closed her eyes and hoped for a mercifully quick death when she heard another scream from farther down the hill. She hoped it was a second tosavou coming to challenge its pack mate over the kill. Perhaps they would fight each other and give her a chance escape or find something to use as a weapon. Momentarily distracted from his prey, the beast lessened the pressure on her chest and lifted its head to look for the source of the scream. Kathryn was about to push the beast off when events seemed to shift to slow motion.

The tosavou's head seemed to detach itself from its body and sail through the air. Kathryn blinked in astonishment, but then was drenched in hot, spurting blood and crushed under the dead weight of the hairy animal's twitching torso. She was about to scream again when she saw a boot kick the carcass off of her, and then saw Chakotay leaning over her. In one hand he held an axe that was gleaming with blood.

"Can you walk?" he asked as he extended his other hand to her, his eyes scanning the area. "We need to get to the cabin before the rest of the pack comes after us."

Unable to speak, she nodded and threw an arm around his neck, allowing him to lift her from the blood-stained rocks and propel her down the path. Her knees were wobbly, and she leaned heavily on him as he half-carried, half- dragged her to safety, her breath coming in panicked gasps. They hadn't gone far when she could hear the other tosavou attacking their dead pack mate's carcass, ripping it to shreds in a feeding frenzy. She shuddered to think that they could have been shredding her body instead.

Chakotay dropped the axe on the front porch, tore open the door, and then carried her into the cabin, pausing to lock the door behind him. She threw her arms around him and sobbed uncontrollably into his neck. She felt him lower her onto the bed and run his hands over her body, systematically searching for injuries. He pulled off his sweatshirt and began to wipe the blood from her face and hair with trembling hands.

"Are you bleeding? Kathryn, are you hurt?"

She found it hard to breathe, her chest bruised, and realized that she'd been chanting the same words over and over again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I forgot the phaser, Chakotay. I'm sorry."

"Kathryn, listen to me," he said, giving her a gentle shake and looking her in the eyes, willing her to hear him. "Is any of this blood yours? Are you hurt?"

She was trembling from shock and fear, but finally managed to focus on his question. "My chest hurts where he was standing on me," she reported, "and I hit the back of my head on the rocks. But I'm okay. I don't think I'm bleeding."

"Oh, thank God," he whispered as he collapsed on the floor beside the bed and buried his face in her stomach. "I heard the pack of tosavou in the area and decided to stay here tonight to be safe. I don't know why I didn't realize that you'd be coming home and looking for me. When I saw you coming down the path, I just knew . . . I just knew they would attack you." He sobbed, and she comforted him, running her hands through his hair.

"It's my fault," she told him. "I was in a hurry to see you, and I didn't think about the tosavou being in rut."

He looked up at her, his eyes tortured with guilt. "It's my fault, Kathryn. If I'd met you tonight as I should have, none of this would have happened. You were almost killed because I was pouting like a spoiled brat. If that tosavou had hurt you, I would never have forgiven myself."

"You didn't meet me because you were upset with me. And who wouldn't feel that way? I've neglected you, Chakotay. Again. And you've been so patient with me, so considerate, so gentle and kind. Who else would let me think this situation through without applying a moment's pressure or demanding an answer?" Her eyes filled with tears as she gave him a smile. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it." He sat up and shuddered at the tosavou's blood still smeared on her face and in her hair. "I'd kiss you, but you're a mess."

"So are you," she replied, touching the blood on his arms. She sat up on her elbows, seeing for the first time how the tosavou's claws had shredded the front of Chakotay's heavy leather jacket with its initial blow. "Good thing I was wearing your coat."

He nodded and helped her shrug it off of her shoulders, only to pale visibly when he realized that the sweater underneath was shredded as well. "Dear God," he whispered, his hands trembling as he touched the frayed threads of the sweater, her pale skin unscathed beneath it. "If those claws had gone even a few millimeters deeper . . . ."

Then they were both in tears, holding each other on the bed and sobbing in relief, no longer mindful of the blood and gore because of the sheer relief and gratitude for Kathryn's narrow escape from death. When they finally regained their composure, Chakotay helped her to the bathroom where she lowered herself into a tub of hot water and rinsed away the evidence of the attack. Once she was clean and wrapped in a thick robe, Chakotay took a quick shower and then joined her in bedroom where she was busily pulling the bloody sheets from the bed.

Their clothes were lying amidst the soiled sheets, so Chakotay picked them up to recycle them, only to have a PADD fall from his coat pocket with a clatter. "Kathryn, is this your PADD?"

"Yes." She finished smoothing the clean sheets on the bed and walked toward him. She was wearing a simple silk shift that clung to the curves of her body. "That's what I was in a hurry to share with you."

He could feel his pulse thundering in his throat. It had been nearly two months since they had been together, and he was finding her state of undress very seductive. "Are you sure that I really want to read it?"

She smiled, "I don't think it will upset you, if that's what you mean. Let's get into bed and read it, shall we?"

"Kathryn, if we get into bed together, I can guarantee you that I won't be doing any reading."

She stepped closer and rested her head on his chest. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

Chakotay slept very little that night. He could hear the tosavou pack racing along the creek and through the trees and bushes surrounding the cabin as they searched for a mate or, with luck, another tasty meal. The hairy, bear-like beasts seldom came down this far out of the hills, but it had been a dry summer season and foraging had been scarce. The danger was so great that local ranchers had taken to locking up their livestock for the first time in twenty years.

Twice Kathryn awakened in tears from a nightmare over her attack, and he'd gently soothed her back to sleep, promising her that she was safe and secure. And then he worried about the fact that come morning they would probably talk through the decision she'd made. Had she decided to submit to the doctor's procedure and lose, in the process, the last two years of memories? Would she assume her former rank and return to the Federation?

He wondered what he would decide if he were in her shoes. Without her whole memory, she felt insecure and incomplete, unsure of her behavior and of her proper reactions to her friends and her work. If he could regain twenty years of his past by sacrificing a tenth of that amount, would he hesitate to do so?

He studied her face in the darkness and told himself that this woman, this Kathryn sleeping beside him, would never leave him. But, if the last two years' experience was taken from her, she would naturally think of herself as a Starfleet admiral with responsibilities to her home region and no real loyalty to the Republic that had welcomed her and been her home.

With those lost memories restored, Kathryn would be the same woman he'd known in the Delta Quadrant and in the years afterwards, disciplined, career oriented, and, in many ways, emotionally inaccessible. She might very well look at their relationship as an understandable mistake, an indulgence of her weakened condition that could no longer be continued once she'd been restored to her "real" self.

And he knew that losing her would be a devastating blow that he would never really survive. She had been all he had dreamed she could be as his lover-- passionate and empathetic, brilliant and funny, industrious and playful, honest and generous. They had always been a good team and close friends, and so it had been easy to slip into a life that was built around her constant presence, to allow her into his heart and his bed, even though he'd been concerned about what would happen if her fragmented memory returned. He trusted her as he had trusted no one else in his life, and he reminded himself that whatever happened, no matter what she decided to do, she would never deliberately hurt him. Not deliberately.

The sun began to brighten the eastern sky. Kathryn stirred and reached for him, and he was helpless to refuse her. If their love-making the night before had been fueled by the hunger of a long separation and a danger survived, this morning it was a gentle reaffirmation of their deep and durable bond. The night before they had thoughtlessly taken from the each other the physical release they'd needed, but now they focused on giving each other pleasure and relishing the mutual bliss that their generosity created. Exhausted and totally relaxed, he finally fell asleep in her arms, aware of the fact that his life and his future was in her hands more completely than it had ever been before.

* * *

Kathryn became aware of an angry rumbling under her ear and raised her head from Chakotay's chest to find him blushing. "Sorry. I skipped dinner last night."

"What time is it?" she said, stifling a yawn.

"Nearly noon."

"You must be famished." She stretched against him with a satisfied groan. "Let's go up to the house and eat in front of the fireplace."

"I was wondering how long it would be before you started burning the firewood."

"I don't think I thanked you for saving my life last night. That tosavou never knew what hit him."

"Oh, I feel thanked, all right," he teased, pulling her close and giving her a passionate kiss. When she pulled back and he noticed the twinkle in her eye, he shook his head. "Oh, no, you don't. You have to feed me first."

They dressed quickly and headed up the rock pathway hand-in-hand. Kathryn shuddered when Chakotay paused to pick up the axe from the front porch, its razor sharp blade still grisly with dried tosavou blood. "Good thing I sharpened it after all the chopping I did yesterday," he said as he rested it on his shoulder. "I don't think we had time for a second blow, do you?"

"No, I don't," she agreed, averting her eyes from the blood.

While Chakotay laid the fire, Kathryn assembled a simple breakfast from what was available in the chiller. They sprawled on the sofa in front of the comforting heat radiating from hearth and breakfasted on croissants with fresh jam, sliced mixed fruit, juice, and, of course, plenty of hot coffee. They talked about their friends, Chakotay filling her in on the Maquis' activities while she'd been gone, Kathryn filling him in on the Starfleet crew. Finally full, Chakotay grew quiet, and Kathryn knew that the time had come to discuss the issue that they had ignored for weeks.

"I apologize for being gone for so long, Chakotay. I never dreamed that I would be gone for two long months."

"You were busy."

"Between Captain Argin's battle drills and B'Elanna's upgrades for Essex, I met myself coming and going." She paused and dropped her eyes. "But that's no excuse."

"Have I complained?" He took her hand, forcing her to look at him.

"No, but you could have complained. Really, you should have. I deserved it."

"You needed time to make an informed decision, Kathryn. Getting pressure from me wouldn't have done any good to either of us."

"You're so wise and patient." She relaxed into the cushion next to him and traced his tattoo. "I love that about you."

"Wise, maybe. But patient?" He nodded toward the fire and chuckled. "It was impatience that made me chop all that wood."

"I don't think I told you about Tuvok bringing my personal logs."

"All of them?"

She nodded. "Thirty years' worth of logs. The doctor thought that going through them might help my memory improve."

"Did they help?"

"Not that much. There wasn't enough time to listen to all of them, of course, so I had to pick and choose. I started early, just after I graduated from the academy and listened to a few from each year. And I listened to the ones that coincided with important events in my life-- meeting Justin, the accident that killed him and my dad, my promotions, my first command, my engagement to Mark. And then, I really focused on the period that is the most incomplete--the ten years starting with the Delta Quadrant until my shuttle disappeared six years ago."

"Four of which you skipped because of the temporal anomaly. It must have been hard to hear all that again."

She looked away. "Excruciating."

"I wish you'd told me. I could've helped you deal with it."

"I thought I needed to do it alone."

Chakotay studied her face, looking for a clue as to her state of mind. "So, what did you think of yourself as Voyager's captain?"

"She looked and sounded like me," Kathryn started with a shake of her head, "but, as you've said, she was different somehow."

"The real Kathryn Janeway was hidden behind a carefully constructed Starfleet façade. Occasionally over the years, I got a glimpse of the real you."

"I'm glad you saw the real me," she joked, snuggling into his side. She felt a chuckle rumble through his chest. "Your name kept popping up."

"What did you expect? I was the first officer."

"At first, that's all you were."

"At first?"

"These are my personal logs, Chakotay, not the official ones. Every so often, I'd make a comment about you--that you're a vegetarian, that you have a wicked sense of humor, that you're habitually five minutes early for every appointment, that you seem to know when I need a humorous story, or a cup of coffee, or an evening away for some entertainment. Gradually, the comments were more personal in nature."

"We were good friends."

"We were more than friends, Chakotay."

He sighed and took her small hand in both of his. "Yes, we were. And no, we weren't. The closer we become emotionally, the more we distanced ourselves physically. Early on, you often touched my hand or arm, or you would rest your hand on my knee or shoulder. Later, as we became emotionally involved, you kept your distance."

"That was something I talked about having to do. I was the captain, and I thought those touches were . . . interfering with our duties."

"I thought maybe that was the case. I resented it at first, chafed against the limitations protocol imposed. I loved her . . . you . . . deeply and without reservation, and I thought you loved me back. I wanted the freedom to follow through on those feelings."

"So did I. But, I just sealed off my emotions. That's the term I used, 'seal them off,' banish them from my thoughts. I did it at a great price, by the way. I resented what it did to me, and I hated that it hurt you."

"Past history now, Kathryn," he whispered, but, in spite of his words, a tear spilled down his cheek.

"Sure, past history. I see that." She solemnly brushed his tears away, her heart breaking to see his pain, even after all these years. "After awhile, you were in the logs every day. Chakotay says this, Chakotay believes that."

"Well. You relied on me. I wanted to be there for you, and we spent a lot of time together."

"And then, nothing. When the admiral came back to change her past and our future, your name completely disappeared. I was so surprised that I actually did a search for your name. For nearly a year, I didn't so much as refer to you in passing." She turned to look at him. "Was it Seven of Nine?"

He grimaced, unable to look her in the eye. "It was Seven, and the debriefings, and all the turmoil of our return. We were pulled in a dozen different directions, and we weren't together much. It's hard to explain."

"You got tired of me, of waiting for me. And Seven was there."

"It wasn't that simple."

"I never once mentioned that you were dating Seven in my personal logs."

"That doesn't really surprise me. Once you heard about us--from the admiral, of all people--you just withdrew your friendship. Or maybe I should say that you redefined our friendship as less personal, less intimate. It was as if I were your sister's husband or your daughter's boyfriend, off limits, taboo." He sighed. "I think that hurt more than anything--to be around you, but not 'with' you."

They were quiet a few moments, thinking, and then Kathryn said, "The next time your name appeared was a year later in an angry rant about your decision to leave the Federation for the Republic. I took it as a personal affront. And I was determined to talk you out of it."

He grinned as he stated the obvious. "You weren't successful."

"I noticed." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I couldn't believe that Seven was staying behind."

"That relationship was doomed from day one," he replied, his voice soft. "I can't think of a more unlikely pair than the two of us. I tried a dozen times to talk to you about it, but you refused to listen. Finally, I realized that the two of us would probably never work things out. The Republic would be too far away for you to be a viable option. It looked like the perfect chance to start from scratch."

"And you've done that."

"I thought I had. I dated a few women. I found a job I loved. But something was missing. And then we received word that your shuttle had disappeared. I was depressed and spent days here building this house as a consolation. I realized that I would never really get over you, Kathryn, and I learned to live alone, with just the dream of what we might have been to each other. And so, when you miraculously reappeared . . . ."

"That must've been a surprise."

"I was thrilled." He kissed her hair gently. "I still am."

"But you've been fretting over my decision. You've been afraid I'd leave you."

"You know I have."

"Well, that's why I want you to listen to this." She leaned forward and picked up the PADD. "This is the last personal log I made before left earth and eventually disappeared. Well, the last one in existence, since I'm sure I made a few more after this that were lost in the anomaly. Anyway, I want you to listen to this alone, Chakotay, while I clean up the kitchen. When you're ready to talk about it, come find me."

He took the PADD and watched her pile the used dishes and mugs on a tray and start for the kitchen.

As soon as he was alone, he activated the PADD, in some strange way disappointed to find out that it was text only. He'd wanted to see Kathryn as she'd been at the time, not just hear her voice. With a sigh of resignation, he closed his eyes and listened.

_"This will be my last personal log before I take a few weeks of leave. I'm going to fly the new Delta shuttle to the Serena Expanse for two months of research with a Vulcan team, and then I'll return to Indiana for some time with Mom. I may try to talk her into going to Ireland with me, or I may just go alone. I'm looking forward to having some freedom to decide whether I will get up before noon or spend the day in bed._

_"I've resisted taking a long leave like this. I think I've relied on my work to fill my time and interest for much too long, a bad habit I picked up on Voyager. Here I am, home for three years, and nothing much has changed._

_"I was so lonely in the Delta Quadrant that I imagined stepping off of Voyager, collaring the first single male within fifteen years of my age, dragging him to the closest available private room, and having my way with him for at least a week. I thought I could drop seven years of celibacy like a snake sheds its skin. I thought that within a year I'd be involved with someone seriously again, ready to make a life-long commitment._

_"Yet, here I am, three years later, still alone. Behavioral habits, my counselors tell me, are the most difficult to overcome, because we condition ourselves by continually making certain choices until they become who we are, no longer a choice, but a fact. After awhile, they say, we can no more break those patterns than we could flap our arms and fly._

_"The thought of it depresses the hell out of me._

_"I remember a vacation our family took when I was a child. We went out West to a 'dude ranch' where we could ride horses and experience the hardships faced by the pioneers. It was one of those trips my parents loved because they thought it taught us about the hardships of life that we ignore in the twenty-fourth century. I hated every minute of it._

_"I was about twelve and Phoebe was six, I think. The big event was a trail ride the last day we were there. Phoebe and I were thrilled to be given the most beautiful horses in the paddock--Pat and Mike--golden palominos with long, flowing, creamy manes and tails. Imagine our irritation when these two huge animals insisted on walking side-by-side, so close that Phoebe's leg and mine rubbed together. I was furious. What could be worse than to have my kid sister right next to me every minute? I complained bitterly to Mom about it, and she asked the manager for help._

_"He laughed and said, 'Those two horses worked side-by-side for years hauling visitors around the property in a buggy until they're only happy when they're together. Your little girls can't keep them apart. If one is away from the other, he's depressed and disheartened. Wherever they are, they seek each other out--they think of themselves a part of a team. They're only happy when the other one is right beside them.'"  
_  
There was a long pause, and Chakotay opened his eyes to see if that was the end of the log entry. A moment later, she resumed speaking, her voice husky with emotion.

_"My counselors believe that my solitude is based on years of isolation in the Delta Quadrant, and so it is. But I know that it's so much more complicated than that. In all those years, Chakotay was beside me. You could say that we pulled the Voyager 'wagon' as a team for seven long years, and in that time, his presence became so much more than a command relationship to me. Like Pat and Mike, he became a part of who I am, the better part of who I am. I miss him like an amputee misses an arm or a leg for the rest of their lives._

_"Like those horses, I fear I'll never be happy as long as Chakotay and I are apart, and I regret, deeply regret, learning this about myself too late to do something about it. He's months away, across a treacherous region of space that prevents anything like normal travel or communication. For all I know, he's married and a father. I hope so. I hope he doesn't suffer the same regrets I do. I hope he isn't alone._

_"It wasn't that I turned away from everyone on Voyager. I turned toward Chakotay. I escaped into his friendship and understanding. And in the process . . . in the process . . . I fell in love with him."  
_  
There was another long pause. Chakotay sat up, his mouth open with surprise to hear this woman, this Starfleet admiral, acknowledge an emotion she'd always denied before. The log entry quickly ended, with just a few closing sentences.

_"There, I've said it. Maybe if I can admit to myself that I love him, I'll find the courage to move on. Maybe, but I don't think so. They say the truth will set you free, but not this truth--this truth is a life sentence of regret."  
_  
She paused again, and he could hear her crying softly.

_"I should delete this whole message. After all these years, what difference does it really make to admit this? And who would care in the future? I've made my choices and will just have to live with them. Computer, file as a draft and flag for review in ninety days. End log."  
_  
Chakotay listened to the log entry three times and then sat staring at the fire for an hour or more. By the time he finally roused himself from his thoughts, Kathryn had finished cleaning up the kitchen and was waiting for him somewhere, probably anxious for him to find her.

She was fast asleep on the study's leather sofa, wrapped up in one of the colorful wool blankets he'd brought with him from Arizona. He knelt beside her, his heart pounding in anticipation.

"Kathryn?"

Her eyes opened, and she blushed, a little embarrassed by all that the log had revealed.

"Hi," she said, pulling her arm from the blanket and cupping his face in her palm. "Did you listen to the log?"

"You loved me."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I loved you. I still do. I told you months ago, Chakotay, that the real person, the woman inside the uniform, always loved you."

He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss. "And your decision?"

"I'm not going back. I sacrificed too much of my life while we were in the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay. I'm not going anywhere unless you go with me."

"Are you going to have the doctor restore your memory?"

"And lose everything I've experienced since then? No, I don't want to do that. I'm thinking that it's better to leave things as they are. What I know of those missing years is mostly pain, self-denial, loneliness, and hardship. Thanks to my fragmented memory, I no longer have that bad habit of solitude to overcome."

Chakotay cried out with joy and caught her up in a passionate hug, and she returned the hug with matching enthusiasm. "Kathryn, I'm so glad. I wasn't sure I could survive losing you again."

She choked back a sob, relieved to have the decision behind her. "I hope we're together always. Forever."

* * *

Everyone, Starfleet and Maquis alike, found it difficult to say goodbye. The final weekend was a series of tearful farewells, poignant gestures of friendship, and promises to keep in touch in spite of the difficulties posed by the wasteland separating them. By the time the festivities were over, both Kathryn and Chakotay were exhausted and frazzled by the strain.

Tuvok was the last person to leave. Voyager's three senior officers stood in the deserted garden of the reception center and regarded each other in respectful silence. Although her memories were spotty, Kathryn had enjoyed listening to them talk about their many years together and the bonds of friendship that the three of them had forged through good times and bad. She was convinced that she could see both affection and appreciation in Tuvok's eyes, although she suspected that he would not admit having such emotions.

"Admiral, I fear that I will not see you again," Tuvok remarked calmly, his face impassive. "Yet I am thankful to know that you are alive and well in your chosen home."

"I'll miss you, too, Tuvok," she replied, wistfully shaking her head at his detachment. "But, please, won't you call me Kathryn after all these many years?"

"Perhaps, Kathryn," he said with a slight nod of his head, "our scientists will soon solve the communication problems that frustrate subspace communication between the Federation and the Republic."

She slipped her hand into Chakotay's as her heart seemed to swell in her chest. "I hope they do. I want so much to know what happens to our crew."

"I will do all I can to keep you apprised of their lives," the Vulcan promised. "And I will look forward to similar updates on those remaining here with you."

Chakotay felt the trembling in Kathryn's hand and put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. He knew she was struggling to keep from crying. "Tuvok," he said, "I'm sure we'll see you again."

"I hope you're correct, Chakotay." Tuvok solemnly raised his hand and made the Vulcan sign. "Live long and prosper."

"Oh, no you don't," Kathryn said as she stepped close to her oldest friend and gave him a ferocious hug. Her voice was thick with emotion when she said, "I'll never forget you, my friend."

"Nor will I forget you, Kathryn," he replied, gently embracing her. He looked up at Chakotay. "I'm gratifyied to know that the two of you will be together. Take care of each other."

"We will," Chakotay said, as Kathryn stepped back to stand beside him. Tuvok shook Chakotay's hand. "Until we meet again."

Tuvok nodded as he tapped his commbadge. "Tuvok to Essex. One to beam up."

Chakotay took Kathryn's hand as they watched their friend dematerialize. The garden was silent and cold. Kathryn turned and buried her face in Chakotay's shoulder, finally letting her tears flow. He put his arms around her and comforted her with quiet words of reassurance, and then he gave her his handkerchief and watched her dry her eyes and blow her nose.

"Do you regret your decision to stay here, Kathryn?" he asked her as she looked up at him, a wistful smile on her face. "It's not too late if you've changed your mind."

"I'm exactly where I want to be," she replied with absolute sincerity. "It's just painful to say goodbye to such good friends, especially when it will be years before we see them again. If we see them again."

"I know." He pulled her into another embrace. "I remember how hard it was to leave you and the others when we came to the Republic years ago."

She relaxed into him, grateful, as always, for his steady support and sympathy. "And thank you for consenting to a Federation wedding ceremony."

She felt his chuckle rumble in his chest. "Somehow, it seemed appropriate in our case. And, anyway, it was a fait accompli, as far as I'm concerned."

"Yes," she agreed, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "We committed ourselves to each other long ago--in our hearts."

"And the engravings in the rings are perfect." He shifted her slightly and held up his left hand, the simple gold band gleaming in the half light of the late afternoon. He smiled when he remembered the curious looks their best man and matron of honor had given them when they'd studied the words inside their matching rings. "Tom and B'Elanna are going to want to know what the engravings mean."

"You won't tell?"

"It's our secret," he said, giving her a wink. He felt her shiver as the cold intensified in the growing darkness. "I think it's a good night for a fire, don't you?"

"It's a perfect night for a fire, and for so much more," she whispered, giving him a wicked grin.

He laughed. They were going to have a passionate marriage and a contented life, just as he had known they would when they found a way to be together. "I'm glad things worked out for us, Kathryn. I love you."

"I love you, too."

They started for their ground vehicle arm-in-arm, and with each step they took, Kathryn felt the sorrow of saying goodbye to her missing friends being replaced by the sheer joy of sharing the rest of her life with her beloved husband. She looked down at her left hand and smiled, thinking how perfect and how meaningful the engraved names were inside their wedding rings: "Pat and Mike."

The End


End file.
